Aaa! Zombies!
by SatoriKatana
Summary: What's better than Creek? Zombie apocalypse Creek! Boy x Boy and violence, don't like, don't read.
1. Freaks and Geeks

Ch 1 Freaks and Geeks

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><p><strong>AN: Warning: contains boy x boy, violence, cursing ect. Don't like, don't read. I own nothing but this freaky-ass story. I only hope I can do these characters justice... Enjoy!**

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><p>I used to be the class freak, when all that labeling bull shit still mattered. I was a geek first and foremost, however. I was the one kid in my class that broke the grading curve, but secondly the freak because I was awkward and twitchy. Too much pressure!<p>

It didn't help that my paranoid braind and ADD made me have random outbursts of uninteligable phrases. I wasn't alloud to have medication because my parents believed that I'd get hooked on them. And what if I became a brain-dead druggy and couldn't get a scholarship to college, thus making my parents sell me because it cost too much to pay my way in! That was waay too much pressure, man!

I could only carry around a mug of sweet, relaxing coffee in a thermos because surely, if I didn't, I knew I'd be bald from ripping my own hair out at the roots. Oh, God-I've gotten so off track! Stupid ADD, fucking with my story-telling ability!

Gah! So anyway, there was no one who thought of me as a human being, to them I was less than a dog. None of the kids in my class even knew my name until Craig Tucker was transferred to my homeroom.

The day he walked through the doorway, his intense blue eyes swept over the room, writing everyone off as your average annoyance. He noticed me right off the bat, because it's hard not to when I have an outburst every five seconds and, for some unfathomable reason, sat next to me every day. He didn't even pay all those stupid, pretty girls a second glance! Was he trying to kill me! PRESSURE!

One day, I had an Orthodontist appointment-to remove my braces-and had to ride from there to school on my bike.

**In the rain.**

When I got to class, soaking wet and shaking like never before, all it took was one comment from the back to set off everyone else. My eyes fell to the ground helplessly as the comments hit hard. The teacher wasn't doing shit! Did he have no soul! Erk! Usualy, or at least in my experience, I just kept my eyes low and eventually they ceased.

**Not today.**

Craig was the only one not to mock me. He simply snorted from where he sat and strolled to the front of the room. He put an arm around me and said "Listen up, ass holes, if any of you or your friends start any shit with Tweek, you start shit with me." And that was the end of that.

Of course the teacher, who watched Craig with an open mouth, gave him 3 week's detention for his language and for disrupting the lesson.

Craig Tucker may not have been the tallest or the strongest, but he sure as hell took the gold when it came to intimidation.

I never really understood what friendship was until that day, and ever since then, it was just Craig and me. No stupid comments, no feet jutted out along the hallway to catch me off-balance. No more other people, screw 'em.

I look all around me as I reflect on this, and sigh. It really doesn't comfort me to know how now, all those people who hurt me, all those years of torment, that they and probably the rest of the world, are dead.

The other side if the coin is that, no, it doesn't sadden me either. As I've said before, all those freakin scary government robots, all those useless wastes of DNA, screw 'em, they were too much pressure anyway!

...

To explain what I just said, I'll tell my story from the beginnig. Oh, Jesus, what if you think I killed everyone in the world! Too much pressure! It's also impossible! Ok, I'll start from here, in the cafeteria.

Or now what I would call crazy shit-town. Well, I suppose I'll start just a bit before it became crazy shit-town.

Anyway, the first sound you hear is the sirens. You know, the ones we had installed tree years ago so that when, not if, some new fucked up thing came along, we'd at least have a warning beforehand.

Next is the automated voice that drones out "_ This is not a drill. Please stay calm."_

**As if.**

And, well, since my paranoid brain expects this shit to go down, any time, anywhere, I'm already under the cafeteria table, just **waiting** for the explosion.

**I didn't really expect one.**

There was no time to react, no one could've seen it coming anyway.

I just want to saythat explosions are something you have to **experience **for yourself before you can fully comprehend. They make for cool scenes in movies, but there is no possible way for a man to walk away from an explosion without so much as flinching. It's just impossible, man!

So, even if the blasts didn't make my innards burst like over-blown water balloons, they definately made my ears pop. I cannot stress enough that explosions don't just come and go, that'd be too freakin' easy. Explosions go out in waves.

After several waves of radioactive heat, everything was quiet. Then you hear the screams, the kind you hear at funerals. God, they still make me shiver. When I finaly got my body to move, I hauled myself out from the regions of the gum-crusted tabe. I still think of it as some sort of mistake, on my part.

This was a massacre. It was everything, everyone, split in half anf painted red. No horror of violent film could compareto this. Not the _'patriot'_, not _'clover field', _not even _'zombieland' _had anything on this.

And it's kind of funny that I mentioned _'zombieland' _earlier, because I'm pretty sure I didn't hallucinate when I saw that girl's boyfriend lunge up from where he lay, a torso, and rip her throat out with his teeth. "Jesus Christ!" I squeaked.

Jesus Christ indeed.

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><p><strong>AN: Sooo much to explain. Okay, I'm sorry I made Tweek curse so much, but doesn't everyone curse in their inner dialogue? I know I do. The couples again are: Creek, Style, Bunny, Candy, and Tyde with some Standy, Benny, and Carny. I know this is a horrible thing to ask, but who should I kill off? I already have some people in mind, but the group is still a bit big for my liking...COMMENT!**


	2. Living a Hell

Ch 2 Living a Hell

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><p>I kept stumbling over all these goddamn corpses and kept yelping to God every time I took another step in my path to wherever the hell I thought I was going.<p>

Now that I think about it, that might have been my over-protective brain trying to distract me from the 95% chance that Craig was one of those red and pink puddles I had a habit of stepping in.

Sweet Jesus, I am so not cut out for this.

At some point, I found myself a nice, sturdy, not blown-up wall and had myself a nice long anxiety attack. This involved me hyperventilating, shrieking, and spewing my guts out, not literally of course. I'm not proud.

It distracted me, but did little to cease my shaking. _Calm down_. _Think straight,_ I tell myself. _What a laugh_, my inner voice says bitterly; _the kid with ADD is trying to get a hold of himself_. _I have to at least try_, I think to myself, _for Craig. How sad would it be if you never told him the truth?_

That last thought cleared my mind and made my stomach calm the fuck down, at least enough to get me moving again. I finally allowed myself to look at the decimated world around me. Everything that seemed familiar was reduced to rubble, which made it nearly impossible to know where the hell I was going and the heavy sent of blood and the like brought back the nausea. Come to think of it, I never really liked horror movies.

All I could think of was Craig. I had to find Craig, or at least confirm his death. Craig was all I had. My parents didn't care about me and neither did anyone else.

My first challenge, of the many I'd undoubtably face later on, was the place. With the crumbling ceiling and the remaining area a burning mess, I had absolutely no bloody idea where to start looking.

The giant hole that was torn out of the building provided a little light, but was definitely out of the question as a quick escape route. I moved almost blindly through the room, the smell of burnt hair and bone made my head spin, but I luckily had no remaining food in my stomach. I alternated with looking up and down to cut down on stepping in my peers.

Now, when it came to the zombies that were in healthy numbers all around, I prayed that all those nights spent watching scary movies at Craig's house would pay off. Oh God—that girl tackled a teacher to the ground! Deep breaths, Tweek, deep breaths.

At this point, I supposed that it was for the best that I didn't have that many friends. Me, the 5'5 freak, covered in soot, blood, someone's prêt pancreas, and the person who'd stuck out since I was 6, I was blinding in pretty well. I only hoped it tricked zombies because if, which you never know in South Park, some guy started shooting zombies, I didn't want to have my head blown off.

And so I walked. _Look up look down. Look up look down. Look up, **oh shit; a zombie.**_

This must've been a zombie for a while now, because it's face had rotted and festered in little bubbling pools that perched high on it's cheek bones and ran down in small streams on it's chin. It's eyes were pupil-less and blood-shot, hazed over and spouting crimson rivulets profusely. The skin that was visible was peeling up and greenish at the edges, and the smell of pure rotten flesh overwhelmed me.

A small shriek in the pit of my stomach died away in my throat, leaving me with a small whimper instead of a horror movie worthy scream. The pure smell of human decomposition made me dry-heave.

It swung an arm at me, and I lunged backwards with the agility of a pikachu. Unfortunately for me, I wasn't what you'd call 'graceful', so I was set on a collision course between my ass and the floor, which would surely earn my demise. Christ, had it even been**_ ten minutes?_**

For a second there, I was sure I was toast, but something caught me somewhere between the floor and my body. God, I really hoped it wasn't another zombie or else I really would puke my guts out.

But it wasn't.

I spun around while jumping backwards, putting myself between the zombie and that solid foreign object I'd hit. "J-jesus Christ!" I choked out. "Craig-It's you!" And it was, in all his chullo-hat-wearing glory. And our clothes have never matched more.

Craig grabbed my patheticaly tiny frame and put me aside, now standing within the zombie's range. That was about the time that I noticed the cafeteria table leg in his right hand. Where the hell do I get one of those!

When the zombie swung again, Craig maneuvered away and braught the table leg down onto it's skull with a wet, sickening crack. Without a word, Craig turned to me and took my hand, leading me out of the cafeteria. God damn it- this was all way too much pressure! He cleared the path of carnage with ease, just swinging away with his table leg. Seriously- are they really that easy to break off!

We broke out in a brisk jog when we made it out of the cafeteria. Here, the zombies hadn't really caused much damage, and their pressence wasn't in the double digits. An improvement already. Finaly, I notice that we're heading for the gym. Craig seems to read my mind. " There's an exit that leads directly to the parking lot. It's our best bet." I nod, trusting him completely. He has experience with all the exits, since he cuts class so damn much.

Apparently, Kyle and Stan had the same plan, because that's who we saw digging through the supply closet. kyle sensed us and glanced up, then relaxed. "Guess you had the same thought then?" Craig nodded. These guys had endless experience with this kind of thing, so I figured it'd be smart if we stayed together. Kyle and Stan agreed, since we all liked each other.

Kyle was brandishing a croket bat like a sledge hammer, Stan deciding on the ever-popular baseball bat. Craig had grown attached to his table leg, and I chose the oh-so modest golf club. I knew Craig preffered to be alone, but decided against going solo. To be perfectly honest, we didn't stand a ghost of a chance on our own-any of us. Even Craig.

Then, Kenny walked in, dargging behind him both Bebe and Butters. "Hey guys" He said casually, a gentle smile ever-present on his face. "Where the hell were you, dude?" demanded Stan, earning a sudden death-glare from the blond. That shit was scary!

"Dying" he muttered coldly. Kyle shook his head. "Whatever, let's just get outa here." he lowered his voice and glanced at Stan with urgency lacing his voice. "I need to find Ike" Stan nodded.

And so, our little fucked up adventure began.

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><p><strong>AN: Yay! I introduced Craig, Stan, Kyle, Kenny, Bebe, and Butters! Sorry for the delay, but I've been kinda buisy. I'll try to update faster, but no promises. Comments have the magic to heal my cramped hands,writer's block, slowness and with enough caffine to allow me to right at 4:00 AM! If you read, please comment. I don't even care if you just write "comment" and it'll only take a second of your time, I just want to know that you care enough about this fanfic for me to keep writing!**


	3. Stanley Marsh Has a Bus

Chapter 3:Stanley Marsh Has a Bus

A/N: so sorry about the delay. (Busy watching Ao no exorcist and drawing Amaimon) I know I suck…but I'll make it up to you and post 2 chapters at once. Because I love you. (Btw, I didn't get a beta, so sorry if I didn't catch all the typos) Enjoy the semi-depressing carnage, my beloved readers~~

We made it to the parking lot before the zombies caught on. Kyle yelled over the commotion. "We need to get to a car!" Kenny said something to Craig that I didn't quite catch, and the delinquent duo disappeared into the mob of reanimated flesh.

I swung my golf club blindly, one of my eyes temporarily squeezed shut. I probably looked really stupid about now, but it's not like appearance was anyone's first priority anyway.

I glanced beside me and saw Bebe take off one of her heels and mercilessly beat a zombie to the ground. Holy shit, dude—that chick was hardcore!

While I was distracted, a zombie swept an arm straight for me, but Kyle was too fast and intercepted the attack with ease. And a crocket bat.

You often forget the damage that Kyle can inflict, especially since he's usually studying or reading all the time. He was a black belt in karate, you know. Craig was just about the only other person who'd stayed in karate besides Kyle and it showed for both of them.

I myself was the lightweight champion boxer of Colorado, but I never had enough courage to stand up for myself. Well, that and I was only 5'5. What use is strength if you're tiny when compared to everyone but Butters? Speaking of Butters, he was hiding behind Stan for protection. I felt so weak right now.

I grimaced at the overwhelming stench that would cling to our clothes forever, no doubt. At least they were already ruined. I needed to get some new clothes next chance I got, man!

A loud honk grabbed my attention. Damn it, don't you people know not to distract the ADD kid when flesh-crazed rotting meat puppets are swarming him? Are you people are trying to get me killed? Oh, Jesus **are they**? Deep breaths Tweek, deep breaths.

Anyway, when I looked up, I saw the biggest Goddamn hummer ever and recognized it immediately. It was Principal Anne Borden's brand fucking new yellow hummer. It all made sense now. Of course Craig and Kenny would want to steal it the first chance they got. Out of every principal we'd ever had, she was the most hated. This was especially true for her two most frequent visitors who were now sitting all high and mighty in the front seat.

The doors swung open and everyone piled in. Well, more like everyone vaulted themselves in. It was at this time that I realized something; Craig was driving. Oh sweet Jesus! I put on my seat belt as fast as I could and squeezed my eyes shut in silent prayer.

You'd understand if you'd ever even **seen** him drive, forget being in the **back seat**!

It was too late though.

Kenny cheered from the passenger's seat as we sped for the exit. That was about the time I had my second near-death experience of the day.

It wasn't the explosion. It wasn't more zombies. No, we almost died because of a fucking school bus.

Needless to say, Craig was literally **standing** on the brakes. The bus honked and out waddled Eric Cartman, asshole supreme. Craig narrowed his eyes at Eric through the windshield of his newly acquired almost-totaled hummer and tactfully flipped him the bird.

Everyone climbed back out of the hummer and stood around Cartman. Kyle pushed his way to the front and jabbed a pointer finger in his face. Very tactful. "You almost killed us, asshole!" This comment was more or less directed at both Craig and Cartman, implied by the lack of "fat" in the insult portion.

Craig shrugged and Cartman snorted, smirk still present on his face. "I guess that means all you assholes don't wanna ride?" I let out a shriek that made everyone jump. They'd already forgotten about my outbursts? I was quickly ignored when the passengers of Cartman's convoy all came out.

Out came Clyde, Token, Wendy and Principal Borden, who looked disheveled and more freaked out than me! I guess she wasn't used to this shit since she was fairly new in town.

Stan didn't hesitate to hug Wendy and the action didn't go unnoticed by the jealous duo of Kyle and Cartman. Clyde and Token met up with Craig, bro-hugging and such. I couldn't help but feel left out at their reunions.

Together, we overthrew Cartman's control of lucky bus number 7 and Stan took over as the designated driver against principal Borden's better judgment, I might add.

We looped our way around to the front of the school, only to come across the goth kids with Ike standing amidst them. They were holding their own, torching down everything in their wake and getting numerous head shots with their switchblades.

Kyle barely waited for the bus to come to a complete stop before he lunged out, the rest of us staying inside. No one could hear what they said, but it sort of looked like this:

Kyle is waving his arms around.

Henrietta is rolling her eyes.

Ike said something.

Georgie said something.

Kyle looked down.

Kyle looked back up.

Kyle gestured to them and pointed at the bus.

They shake their heads.

Kyle began crying.

Evan took a step forward and said something.

Kyle narrowed his eyes and nodded.

Ike hugged Kyle for a long time.

Kyle nodded and walked back to the bus.

Stan got out and probably asked where Ike was going.

Kyle said something and Stan hugged him for a long time.

That was the last time we ever saw Ike.

**A/N: To sum up that last part, Ike decided to go with the goths rather than Kyle. Sad face ****. Principal Borden is minor and won't have many prominent rolls in the near future, but I need some kind of adult in this and I think Craig and her will have awesome banter together. Read on~~**


	4. Issues We All Have

Chapter 4: Issues We All Have

A/N: Here's the second chapter of the day, as promised. ;) Warning: It's very sad. :( Character deaths and other depressing themes are involved. (I'm even listening to The Fray and Death Cab for Cutie, two of my favorite bands, to set the mood) Also, still no beta (cause I'm lazy) but I am trying to cut down on my typos. Enjoy~~

The sun was sinking low in the mountains, staining the sky and clouds all shades of pinks and oranges. Everyone was on edge, most of us clutching gardening tools in our hands to the point of out knuckles turning paper white.

Principal Borden is jumpy as hell, her antics almost in competition with mine but there's just no way I'm losing to this bitch now.

Considering it was only a little past noon when all this started, it was safe to surmise that we'd burned a lot of daylight carefully weaving through broken down cars, zombies, and other remnants of the explosion.

I was both mentally and physically exhausted but, being a hopeless insomniac, my eyes refused to close. I leaned on Craig, who's sitting beside me. He strokes my hair in order to keep me from coming right out of my skin.

My eyes fell on Kyle, who was bitterly staring at Wendy and Stan's lovey-dovey antics. I wondered how long it'd take Stan to notice those eyes on him. It seemed that no matter how many times Wendy broke his heart, he'd never on his life give Kyle the satisfaction of winning him over. I Knew what Kyle must be feeling all too well.

How much hurt did Kyle feel? Just think about it. Wasting your whole life watching them. For Stan's best friend since birth to be constantly waiting for him to finally realize what you should've already known. And Jesus Christ- for someone like me to notice this before Stan did!

I glance up at Craig, and he seems to nod in agreement. My eyes stay focused on him even after his eyes leave me altogether. Yes I know exactly how you feel, **Kyle.**

Eventually, Craig fell asleep, his mouth partially agape. I gave a small smile, playing distractedly with his hat's tassels.

We reached our neighborhood shortly after I was beginning to calm down. Stan's house was closest to the school, so it was slated to be checked first. Stan looked tense and nervous as hell. Craig, Kyle, Stan and I crept inside with caution.

Mr. Marsh was on his knees clutching his bloodied wife in his arms. Without hesitation, Stan fell to his knees beside his parents, blue eyes wide in terror. "What…happened?" Stan was shaking more than I do on a good day.

Mr. Marsh refused to meet his son's eyes. "Stan…I…couldn't save her…I couldn't." His dad was in complete hysterics and I recognized a hint of shock in his voice. So much blood…I could've puked, man!

Stan held his stomach, eyes brimming with tears. A couple feet away were a dead zombie and bloodied rifle. "The damn…gun jammed…you know…like it always does." Stan's expression grew grim as the story unfolded in his mind.

Stan began to help his dad up when his mom leapt from the carpet and tackled her husband to the ground, a brief jet of crimson liquid spattering onto Stan's face. Craig moved quickly, grabbing a handful of her hair and part of the back of her shirt to haul her off of Stan's dad.

A gaping hole was torn into the juncture of his shoulder and neck, and everyone knew it was only a matter of time before he turned. Craig tossed Stan's mom into the kitchen and followed her with his table leg held like a bat. Stan was too focused on his dad to notice, which was probably for the best.

"Please Stan, the gun…." Mr. Marsh pointed a bloody finger at the firearm. "I want you to—" His sentence was cut short fit of possibly overdramatic coughs, but we all understood the words he hadn't said. "Dad…" The tears spilled out of Stan's eyes now.

"I want you…to finish this…" Mr. Marsh smiled weakly as the blood gushed from his open wound. "Kyle…you know how hard-headed Stan can be…please take care of him."

Kyle nodded, crying as well. "Kids…I…wish you kids the best…"

Craig silently passed the rifle to Stan in a gesture of sympathy. "I…love you Stan." Mr. Marsh confessed one last time as his son took aim. Stan swallowed. "I love you too…dad."

BANG!

The rifle clattered to the floor. Stan collapsed in Kyle's arms. Kyle held Stan for a long **time.**

I didn't notice that I had been crying until Craig wiped my tears away. Kenny took over as the driver while Stan and Kyle sat in the back by themselves. When Wendy went to check on her boyfriend, he said "Go away. I just want Kyle…"It might have been for a second, but I swear I saw Kyle smirk.

Wendy snorted and went to go sit beside Carman, who didn't seem to mind. Damn, that chick gets pissed off **way **too easily, man! I began to think of more serious matters as we continued down the street.

_At this rate, between the zombies and the bombs, our chances of survival seemed to dwindle before we even rolled the dice._

The bus stopped outside of Kyle's house. Kenny called to Kyle. "Dude, I think you need to see this"

Reluctantly, Kyle stood up, quietly promising to return to Stan's side. When he got to the front of the bus, he shrank back in horror. "Oh…dear God…" Kyle covered his mouth, eyes in a perpetual state of shock.

His legs buckled as his zombie mom ran at the bus, followed closely by his zombie father. Kenny had to stand up to steady hi friend. "Easy there." He mumbled, holding Kyle by the shoulders.

I don't think I've ever seen this side of Kenny. No playful smirk, no groping, no dirty talk, just overprotective Kenny gently comforting Kyle. Stan made his way to the front of the bus and carried a hysteric Kyle back to their seat.

Kenny continued driving down the street to my house. It's some surreal shit to watch a rabid mob of undead townsfolk rip your parents limb from limb…and then eat those limbs. I couldn't speak, my mouth just opened and closed.

Then all at once, my shaking and voice came back full-force. "J-Jesus Christ! That's—that's my parents!" Yes, the people who'd raised me, threatened to sell me, and disproved the existence of underwear gnomes time after time were dead and gone forever.

Then there was Craig, who pried my hands from my hair and held me in his arms. Cold, crushing pain spilled into my chest, making it hard to breath. My ribcage felt as if it were on the verge of collapse.

I buried myself in Craig's strong chest and breathed him in, hoping it'd make this all go away.

As we drove through the north side of South Park the crater, the landscape burning alive made it abundantly clear; we were all orphans now.

**A/N: I told you it was depressing. Did anyone catch the reference to a Ben Gibbard song? ;) You may have already guessed, but here's a late reminder/warning: Shit will go down, and people will die. A big thank you to my beloved readers! This is all for you because you are the reason why I keep writing~~ Hopefully, I'll update sooner. You never know, since the school year draws near though…**


	5. All I Have

A/N: Wow, I'm impressed with how this is turning out! I have to admit that I almost dropped this. I posted Aaa! Zombies! on this site in hopes of getting new inspiration for writing it. Thanks to your comments, this is the very first story I have ever dropped and picked back up! ;) Enjoy the new chapter!

Chapter 5: All I Have

We were 4 hours out of South Park now and it was about ten o'clock at night. It didn't take a lot of brainpower to know what was on everyone's mind right about now. In fact, it could be any number of things. Hunger, shelter, safety and the uncertain future had to be at the top of the list, though. Or maybe that was just me.

It was only a matter of time before Cartman started complaining of hunger. It's not like he'd starve, that's for sure.

Everyone had settled into a silence to grieve for everyone we'd lost. It had been a devastating blow to all of us. Kenny was such a mess that he nearly wrecked twice.

This wouldn't be an easy feat, not for any one of us. I'm not sure half the people here even wanted to try. I rested my forehead on the windowpane and watched the rain hit the glass. We were all hungry and Kenny was half asleep at the wheel.

That's when I saw it; a trucker's diner. My eyes lit up and I jammed my finger against the glass. "Hey! Kenny, stop! There's a place to eat!" Craig groaned and opened his eyes, having apparently nodded off. Kenny seemed to see the diner and swerved the bus into the parking lot.

Everyone had just gone to sleep for the night, having given up on the endeavor of food. Kenny left the bus running in case of the very possible case that we had to run out damn fast at a moments notice. Craig and I provided backup for Kenny in case there's a zombie he doesn't see or in case the government tries anything. You can never be too cautious, you know.

Kenny crept up to the large wooden doors and tensed up when he saw a shadow fall across the cloudy glass panes. He turned to us and made some sort of army gesture that I didn't understand at all. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.

All at once, Kenny landed a kick on the doors which opened simultaneously and revealed a large man covered in bites and with, oh God, pupil-less eyes. Kenny didn't so much as blink as he used a rather large hunting knife to sever its head. I wasn't so hungry anymore.

We scoped the area, but found nothing resembling a zombie. The inside of the building was one continuous room. The restaurant portion was to our left, the convenience store was to our right and a bar came in between the two.

Kenny went for the bar while Craig began filling a novelty backpack with junk food and bottled water. "Wooh-hoo! The bar tender was a red neck!" Kenny called from behind the bar, holding three hunting rifles like they were trophies.

Kenny and Craig emptied out the supplies into the bus while I looked around. I was about to leave when a warm, nostalgic aroma wafted to me from the diner, **coffee.**

~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~

Craig's voice echoed through the empty truck stop. "C'mon, Tweekers. We've gotten everything into the bus. Kenny's waiting for us—" His voice trailed off as he got closer.

I sat alone at the diner counter, my eyes looking down into my fifth cup of coffee. Another tear rolled down to the tip of my nose and fell into my mug.

"Ngh—Craig…" I squeezed my eyes shut, both hands clutching the maroon porcelain until my knuckles turn white. I probably looked like a mess right now. My eyes were red and puffy from all my miserable crying.

I felt a warm arm drape itself across my shoulders just before Craig spoke. "Why are you crying, Tweekers?" I snorted, shaking my head. "Isn't I-it o-o-ob-vious?" My voice was so shaky it surprised me that I could even get one word out.

Because, the more I thought about it, the more I wanted to cry. It occurred to me that now I'd never have another cup of Tweak Bro's coffee. I'd never return to the place I was born and read the familiar wooden sign at the outskirts of town. _South Park: population zero._ I'd never, ever see my pretty mom or eerily calm father again. I'd never **be** nor **have** a home again. I wouldn't live to see 30.

_I was __**so**__ scared._

My body finally gives in to exhaustion and I feel heavy and numb. I lean into Craig, trying in vain to stop sobbing. I heard Craig sigh, and then I felt his arms hook themselves around me and drag me to my feet.

"Wait a sec…" Just as we neared the exit, Craig ran to a door that we hadn't noticed before.

Cautiously, he opened it and leaned into the unseen room. "It's a garage." He informed me, disappearing just a second later. Then, when I'm just about to check on him, I hear a chuckle followed in quick succession with the buzz that could only be one thing.

Craig reappears with a huge chainsaw cradled in his arms. "Good thing I know how to use one of these…" He smirked and I just rolled my eyes. "Can we leave please?"

"Calm down." We re-boarded the bus, and Kenny's eyes widened at the sight of Craig's new toy. As we continued our route down the road, everyone started to wake up and eat some food. The atmosphere had shifted greatly with sleep and food. All I could think was damn; I should've brought some coffee with me.

**A/N: I had to establish how they got food and firearms before anything else, so this was kind of boring. Coffee sounds pretty good right now…=3= Anyway, Craig can have a lot of fun with his well-deserved chainsaw, which is all the better to slay zombies with my dears~~ Comments are love~**


	6. A Way Out

A/N: So…Here we are again. I'm still stoked over the fact that my reviews are in the double digits! (Currently 11. Pitiful, I know ^-^;) As the school year draws painfully close, I feel the need to crank out at least a couple chapters this week. Enjoy the latest installment of my story~~(Also, like in chapter 4, distressing themes are involved. Warning: There is a creeper, and it isn't Kenny!) Without further ado~

Chapter 6: A Way Out

I was starting to know when we were about to enter a town by how many zombies we passed. When a couple miles out, only two or three. In the outskirts were four to six. When we were passing through, it was completely dependent on the pre-established population, but was usually anywhere from 16 to 20 when we were in the middle of a town.

We had passed through at least half a dozen towns by now and it was mid-afternoon. Kyle sat in the back looking very deep in thought. Stan was asleep in his best friends lap and I smiled just a tiny bit. Wow, that might have been my first real smile since all of this happened. Gah-fucking ADD!

Anyway… we were currently passing through what we thought was jus another ghost town that used to have a population just under six hundred.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw the slightest of movements beside a bank…or I could have just imagined it, which would have also been possible.

I could just be losing what little mind I had left to lose.

Before anyone could react, we were very suddenly passing over a spike strip. Kenny barely had time to swerve to a stop before we toppled over and died.

I gripped the upholstery for dear life, while Craig spewed a string of unintelligent curses, some of which I don't think I've ever heard before. Ms. B was shrieking her head off, which did nothing but annoy us. Hell, even **I **wasn't screaming!

A country twang boomed around us, making the windows rattle as they vibrated on their frames. Obviously there was a megaphone involved. "Y'all get out 'a the bus now. Nice 'n easy, no weapons, 'neither."

"And why should we?" Kenny challenged. The voice simply chuckled.

As the frightening, borderline-crazy laughter died down, the voice took a deep breath and resumed without missing a beat. "Because, son, we've got here one 'o them rocket launchers."

That's a pretty damn good reason to get out of the bus.

Kenny relented and gestured for us to comply with the commands. Once we were in a single-file line against the side of the bus, a man strolled out from his hiding place beside the bank.

Ok, so maybe I wasn't completely crazy yet, but the way the man looked at us, I kind of wished I was bat-shit insane.

The man, who I'd identified as the voice, looked how one would expect a stereotypical cowboy to look. He strode with confidence, a wrinkled plaid button up, huge belt buckle, the boots of course, the hat, and a huge mustache. I shivered as his cold blue eyes looked over us.

The cowboy began walking the length of the line much the same way a nazi officer would a lineup of prisoners. That's what we were, anyway, prisoners.

He stopped halfway down the line and swiftly ripped Kenny's hood down to get a proper look at his face. The man smiled. It wasn't the smile of a distant uncle who hadn't seen you since you were a baby, nor was it the smile of someone who just saw his or her favorite book become a great movie. To describe this smile, it was that of a man who had starved half to death, but now had a feast set before him. It was sickening, greedy and Kenny shared my sentiments.

Anyone you asked would be lying if they told you there was nothing attractive about Kenny McCormick, more so now than before. Kenny had his wheat blond hair cut in perfect flippy layers, the lower of which he had dyed black, as well as had his ears pierced several times, and he had the prettiest turquoise eyes ever. See? It's even easy for me to go on about him!

The cowboy kept walking down the line a victorious smirk on his face. Kenny shuddered in disgust. The man paid no mind to Bebe, Token and Clyde. It was beginning to feel something like a sick game of duck duck goose.

Then he stopped in front of me. "My my, ain't you a pretty 'on" His heavy southern drawl made me shiver. I was a goose. When he reached his hand out to touch me, I made a snap decision to employ my anti-molestation tactic.

I had read about these two unsupervised teenage girls that almost got abducted by this guy at the local mall but when he tried to take them to his van they got on their hands and knees and mooed like cows. The pervert was so freaked out that he took off. Let's hope this guy wasn't into the mentally unstable, which would only be half an act in my case.

"GAH! Don't touch me-the—the gnomes—they'll—" I proceeded to twitch and convulse as much as possible. The man looked taken aback, jerking his hand away quickly. I mentally applauded my performance.

This was short-lived, however. The man smiled, his gloved hand stroked my cheek softly as he cooed, "It's all right, little birdie, and you'll be treated very carefully here." Oh God—he **did **have a thing for crazies! No one was safe!

I could **feel **Craig shaking in rage beside me. I glanced at him and it stunned me. I'd never seen him look honestly pissed off before! His ice blue eyes were narrowed into slits, and if wasn't for the rocket sniper, I had no doubt in my mind that the cowboy would be dead at our feet before he so much as touched me.

The man turned to the furious raven-haired boy to my right with that perverted smirk still present on his face. "And you…aren't you a feisty one." His voice was laced with enough smugness to pollute an entire third world country.

Craig was just as incredibly good-looking as Kenny. There was the fact that he had the under layers of his hair dyed electric blue, or that nose piercing of his that drove me insane. His perfectly symmetrical face, straight nose, unnaturally blue eyes that seemed to change colors with his mood, his subtly curved eyebrows and pale perfect white skin all combined and clashed perfectly. He could definitely have made it rich as a model.

The man placed Craig's chin between his index finger and thumb, turning it back and forth to get the full effect. He continued down the line, picking favorites as he went. When he got to the end, he grabbed Kyle by the arm and yanked him forward. Stan had to use every ounce of self-control he had not to maul that sick motherfucker. "Me 'n red here are gonna go have some fun. Kyle and Stan were both thoroughly pissed off now.

Kyle struggled against the cowboy's vice grip. "Get off me you sick asshole!" As we watched the man drag Kyle away, it became apparent that this wouldn't be resolved quickly. Another thing was, this probably wouldn't end well.

A/N: A cliffhanger! If you're thinking about how this is getting bizarre, just remember that this is South Park, and I had to live up to the legacy of all the crazy shit that goes down. Pray for Ky-ky! Also, Tweek was wrong; it will be resolved, most likely, in the very next chapter because I don't want to dwell on this part for very long. ;) Comments help me write faaaasteeer!


	7. No Bad Deed Goes Unpunished

**A/N: Here's the second portion of this weird little arc. I hope you enjoy sweet, sweet revenge~ D Anywho, even if you think this chapter is boring, the next one is sure to have some Creek (by 'some' I mean a lot! :3) Enjoy some Style in the meantime ;)~~**

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><p>Chapter 7: No Bad Deed Goes Unpunished<p>

We were taken to the bar across the road from the building Kyle got dragged into. Stan was busy shouting every name in the book as we were dragged away by a small group of what must have been body builders. Their arms were bigger around than my head!

The burley men chained us to each other and to the counter so that our backs were to the plastic and our faces were to the front doors.

By the light the single overhead panel of bulbs had to offer, Kenny began squirming against the chains with his tongue stuck out in concentration. As to what he was concentrating on per se, I have no idea.

Suddenly, a dull click made everyone lean forward to see what Kenny was doing. The hulks were sitting casually on the porch while we watched a relieved and triumphant smile cross his face. Kenny pulled his arms out from behind him and rubbed his wrists. Everyone gaped.

"You picked the locks." Stated Bebe, more than anything to clarify.

Kenny simply smirked slyly. "Baby, you underestimate my abilities."

With that, Kenny set to work on Cartman's handcuffs and soon we all had our hands free. Apparently, the guards were unaware of this. They simply laughed and carried on as if they hadn't just kidnapped a group of teenage kids. What kinds of sickos do that?

We knelt in a circle desperately thinking up a plan. There was very little time to think, for Kyle's sake, so I decided to step up.

"There's a back door behind us; we can use it to sneak out. From there, one of us can create a distraction to get the guard's attention. A group of us can stay in here and take out the guards from behind while they're distracted." I took over. That's how desperate I was to get out of this situation, man!

No one had any objections to this, so we employed this tactic. The diversion would be carried out by Kenny, while Stan, Clyde, Token, Cartman and Craig would stay behind and ambush the distracted guards. The remainder of us would follow Kenny out the back door and provide backup should this go wrong.

We crouched at the side of the building, peeking out just enough to make sure the hulk club was still unaware of the fact that half their prisoners weren't even in the bar anymore. When we confirmed that they hadn't, Kenny gave a thumbs up and darted out into plain sight. We all watched with crossed fingers.

"Hey, dildos! Yoo-hoo!" The reaction was instantaneous. The guards were completely off-guard when five rage-filled teenage boys launched their attack. Soon, Cartman had a man at his feet. "Respect. Mah. Authoritah!" He punctuated each word with a sharp kick to the ribs.

Without hesitation, anyone that wasn't currently in the middle of kicking the shit out of someone was handing out weapons or headed for the Super 7 motel across the street.

Kenny, Stan and I ran across the street, Kenny and I barely keeping up. Stan didn't even miss a beat when he came upon the door; he just kicked it down like a giant domino.

Kyle was seated in a swivel chair with his hands cuffed behind his back. Tears of true terror rolled down his face, making my heart feel a painful squeeze. If there was anyone who didn't deserve something so horrible to happen to them, it was Kyle.

The cowboy had his mouth all over Kyle's neck, and his hands all over the rest of him, but Kyle's clothes had yet to be removed. Neither of the two of them had noticed our presence, but Stan took care of that. He picked the smaller man up with one hand and threw him into the wall. Kenny picked away at Kyle's cuffs while Stan punched and kicked away. Soon, Kenny had freed Kyle and had me help move him outside. Once that was taken care of, he rushed back into the manager's office of that Super 7 motel with the most viscous look I'd ever seen.

Now Kyle and I were outside in awkward silence while everyone else set to work on confiscating weapons and torturing the guards, who'd been chained to the oak support beams on the porch of the bar.

Token was on a rooftop when I saw a silhouette appear beside him. The shadowy figure raised a large cylinder over their shoulder and Token saw them too. Then three things happened. I saw Token tackle the shadow; Craig tackled Kyle and me to the ground while the bus exploded. Holy SHIT! They weren't bluffing about that rocket launcher!

My breathing went into overdrive as I felt Craig's labored breaths in my ear. Slowly, we picked ourselves back up and Craig flipped Token off. I knew this meant 'thanks for stopping that tool from blowing up Tweek and Kyle'.

Token smiled sheepishly and made his way back to the first floor, one rocket launcher richer. Bebe smirked to herself while she loaded a sniper rifle. Where does everyone get these badass weapons while I'm stuck with a golf club!

Then we played the waiting game while Stan and Kenny continued their shit kickery.

Craig casually passed me a loaded and ready to go Glock. Hells yes! Finally I have some adequate weaponry! Wendy paced back and forth in supposed worry. After another five minutes of waiting, Kenny and Stan reappeared from the shadowy depths of that evil motel. Wendy ran towards Stan, who'd started running too, but he sprinted right past her.

"Kyle! Kyle, are you ok?" Stan crouched on the sidewalk beside Kyle and gently lifted his face for inspection. "How far did he…?" Kyle shook his head.

"He didn't get that far, but…I was so scared!" I'd never seen Kyle cry before, but I knew it was something I'd rather never see again. He threw himself into Stan's arms, Stan being more than willing to hold him. He gently massaged Kyle's back, murmuring quietly and rocking slowly back and forth. Wendy scoffed at this, muttering something about "Fine, I guess we're through!" She acted as if she was saying it to herself, but was really trying to make Stan hear her. He didn't care anymore.

'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~

Once Kyle calmed down, we made the decision to spend the night here since we'd lost the rest of the daylight, not to mention our means of transportation. We settled on a small department store, meaning new clothes, shoes, and a mattress department. Oh, how one forgets the beauty of a horizontal sleeping surface.

We made our fortress in the second floor furniture department. Everyone made separate sections of cushions and mattresses. Craig was making a fucking castle-fort out of pillow tops, and then stacked several temper-pedics for the bed. "You wanna share?" he asked, eyeing the others who were pairing off. I nodded. "Good, I wasn't letting you out of my sight anyway." And then he smiled at me and my heart went crazy. I was beyond crazy about Craig Tucker.

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><p><strong>AN: The next chapter will take place the same night. Lots of wondrous Creek will be involved. How much I write depends on you. Reviews. I want lots of them. Only then shall I reward you with Creek! **


	8. Department Store Romance

**A/N: First of all, I'd like to apologize for "holding the reviewers hostage" but I'm satisfied with the amount of reviews I currently have. Now, since Tweek's birthday was just last Wednesday and I know that for everyone still in school this day has been full of anxiety and stress, I'm updating! Maybe this will help you relax. Enjoy the Creek and thank you for 20 great reviews! ~~**

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><p>Chapter 8: Department Store Romance<p>

With almost all the lights turned off upstairs, I was insanely anxious. I couldn't find sleep, so I decided to walk through the furniture sets until I got bored and flopped onto a $2,000 designer couch.

My mind was bursting with panic and worry as my imagination decided to show me all these horrible mental images that could come of several situations. Like, what if Kenny fell asleep while on guard duty or he couldn't stave off a sudden rampage of the undead? Sometimes I really hate my brain.

Kenny was downstairs perched on a mountain of miscellaneous retail items with a loaded shotgun in his lap. I could never be able to do that, be downstairs by myself just waiting for the zombies to break down the reinforced doors. Even though I was an insomniac and therefore an ideal candidate for guard duty, everyone had agreed that I wasn't at all fit to carry out this important role.

I sat in near-perfect silence just tugging at my glove's buckles and thinking about all the things that could happen. I hated playing "what if", but my brain kind of took the wheel as it usually does.

I allowed myself to reach over and turn on the cheap lamp that rested on the side table to my right. With the dim light that surrounded me, I relaxed only slightly. Suddenly, a dark figure came into view. When I was able to identify the mystery person as none other than Craig, I gave a small, relieved smile.

"Couldn't sleep? Me either…" He gave a long sigh and sat down beside me.

"Listen, this has been the first time we've been alone since all of this began and I'm not sure if I'll ever get another chance to say this, so here goes…"

My heart was beating a mile a minute as I watched Craig in curiosity.

"I don't know a lot right now. I don't know if we'll die tomorrow, I don't know if we'll live past tonight, hell, I don't even know if this is our last moment together, but all I do know is that…" He pauses and bites his lip, obviously not satisfied with the words he just said. In fact, he looks pretty embarrassed; or as embarrassed as Craig Tucker can manage to look. "I'm in lesbians with you." The he smacked his head when he realized he just quoted Scott Pilgrim.

My eyes are probably the size of saucers right now. I take several shaky breaths and try to find my voice. When I can't, I opt for plan b. I practically tackle Craig onto his side of the sofa with my arms locked around his neck. Craig was not really expecting this, so I knocked the wind out of him. When he recovered, he smirked at me like the smug asshole he is and took this as an invitation to a make-out session.

He easily pushed me back onto my side of the $2,000 designer sofa so that he was above me. Then my brain realized what was happening. The mantra that rang out relentlessly in my head sounded something like: _Oh my God, he's kissing you! He's fucking kissing you and you're kissing back!_

Apparently having had success thus far in his endeavor, Craig decided to add his tongue to the equation. I will admit, I nearly bit it off. Eventually, I got semi-used to this and began to fight back with my own tongue. I should've known Craig would win the fight for dominance and I mentally hate myself for the whiny noises I made.

Now he was running his hands up and down my sides while trying to mute the full volume of the noises I was making. Next thing I know, he's moved on to my neck. Both my eyes are squeezed shut, and I swear I hear him say "So cute." I shove my knuckles in my mouth to hinder the squeals and squeaks.

Craig leans back on my hips and gently lifts my face so that our eyes meet. He moves back down to kiss me again and this time his hand goes…lower. I squeal exceptionally loud and I can feelhim smile against my lips. He moves his tongue in again while he massages me through my jeans.

Suddenly, his hand moves back to my chest and I involuntarily buck my hips. That smug smirk is ever-present on his lips. He grinds his hips against mine until I just can't stand it anymore. Dazzling white overtakes me and mutes out everything else except the fact that I'm screaming his name. Then I feel completely exhausted and unable to move. Maybe it was because I was pinned on a sofa by my somehow-somewhat-boyfriend.

And, for someone like me, who's always been the freak and the geek, I felt amazingly happy.

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><p><strong>AN: Don't shoot! This was my very first attempt at anything remotely smut-like, so please don't hate me. I personally don't care for every detail, so I went for the subtle approach. It was still fluffy cute romantic scene and I hope that's enough! Have a good school year guys!**


	9. Splits Ville

**A/N: My first chapter writing a portion in Craig's POV! ^-^ Disregard the title; it isn't insinuating a breakup. For information concerning updates and my current rant, go on my profile. Enjoy my attempt at angst and sadness!**

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><p><strong>Chapter 9: Splits Ville<strong>

(Tweek's POV)

The next morning was, in a word, hectic. Everyone was frantically running around, some screaming random obscenities when they realized all that had happened wasn't just a bad dream. We ate canned goods from the small grocery across the street and changed into our new clothes, courtesy of the very generous Frederic's department store.

I was in a daze when I too realized that **nothing **that had happened had been a dream. I woke up with Craig still **on top of me** and completely flipped my shit, ending up shoving off the couch. I didn't even notice when everyone began to leave the store or when Craig walked right up to me. When he tapped my shoulder, I literally levitated a foot off the ground.

"Hey, we're leaving." He says with a smirk, apparently amused by my reaction.

I narrowed my eyes at him, but my face felt like it was on fire. He simply snickers at me and quickly leans in to peck me on the lips, then brushes past me to the door. That stunned me, but I eventually recovered and followed him out.

Kenny had two practically new Lincoln Navigators parked at the curb and seemed to be talking to the group about mechanics or some shit like that. I stayed in the back and pretty much just zoned out.

"Ok, guys. I couldn't find anything big enough to hold all twelve of us, but these were the next best thing, so we'll have to make do. For starters, we need to make groups…"

And so began the battle; who sat next to without killing that person, who conflicted with who so much that they had to be in separate cars, and who was neutral enough to act as a buffer between conflicting persons. This argument was resolved with the formation of "Group A" and "Group B". Group A was comprised of Token, Cartman, Wendy, Kenny and me with Stan driving. Group B had Kyle, Craig, Butters, Clyde and miss B. with Bebe as the driver. Don't ask me how this arrangement came to be, because I didn't know what the hell anyone was talking about half the time. All I know is that I'm sandwiched between Token and Kenny in the back row of this car watching Group B's navigator driving just a little ahead.

We were already nearing the outskirts of town by this time, and everyone was in a much better mood. Now we were currently delving into a thick wood that swallowed up every bit of early morning sunlight there was. I was just a smidgen anxious, and it was becoming verbalized.

I continued doing so until Stan made a point to slow down and tell me to stop distracting him. As we progressed away from the mountains, the humidity began to increase and we soon became enveloped in a thick fog. "Oh Jesus Christ!" I screamed at the top of my lungs, and soon everyone was having a panic attack. Stan took one hand off the steering wheel to pinch the bridge of his nose.

"Tweek? Would you care to **calm the fuck down**? Would **anyone in the whole fucking car** care to calm **the fuck** **down**?" Stan was usually pretty laid back, but his stress and blood pressure were probably causing some malfunctions with his self-control.

Wendy's eyes grew wide as she noticed that we could no longer see group b's car. That's when everyone grew quiet, even me. I swallowed hard, hands clammy. Then we suddenly stopped. When I leaned forward to see the cause of our deceleration, I lost any grip I had and went ahead and screamed; there was a fork in the road, and none of us could see anything past it.

~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'

(Craig's POV)

I became increasingly less at ease as we continued down the road. Bebe had assured me that group a had seen us signal, but I wasn't at all convinced. Everyone seemed skeptical as we continued on our way and we couldn't see group a behind us. Not that I could tell from the second row.

It's not like we could just stop dead to see if they were just behind, not in this fog. They'd rear end us for sure.

I noticed that Clyde shared my sentiments, but expressed them in the form of whimpering quietly. I'm acutely aware that Tweek's in the other car, either behind us or going God only knows where. I grind my teeth in frustration.

Eventually, the fog lifted, but the damage had been done. Damn those redneck assholes. If it weren't for them, I'd still have my adorable blond beside me. Token was also in that car, and Clyde was flipping out about that. It still makes me chuckle that they thought they could date behind my back. Idiots.

I glanced around me in desperation, trying in vain to find that Navigator. I cursed under my breath, nearly ready to open the door, tuck and roll, then look for myself, but God

Had other plans. We suddenly found ourselves out of the woods and in a huge clearing. That's when I had to put my search on hold. As I looked at the mob of the undead that surrounded us, I knew we weren't really out of the woods. Not by a long shot.

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><p><strong>AN:Yay-another cliffhanger! Damn, I'm good at these! Comments are greatly appreciated! Until next weekend, and sorry for the slight tardiness! **


	10. A Private Chat With the Guy Upstairs

**A/N: Gah! I'm so sorry for the delay, but I had a shit load of projects last weekend, and the guilt was killing me all week long. _; Since I've found a little free time, I've decided to update for you guys! I owe WizerdBeard a lot for the whole museum idea, which is coming up! ^-^ Also, please see my profile for my update policy, rant, and what's in the works. PM me with any ideas you'd like to share with me. Also, thanks for an amazing 37 reviews; you guys are awesome!**

**And before I forget, Scarlet Wolf: please keep in mind that this is South Park, where anything and everything is fucking possible (rocket launchers were where you drew the line, really? What about, I don't know, the zombies, red neck pedo bears, ect? w silly truffle!). I would also appreciate if you keep the questions to a minimum and just wait and see, I'm planning to answer all the questions that are floating around in everyone's brains in due time, because what's the fun of revealing everything all at once? Oh, and thanks for the recommendation of killing the fat ass. Believe it or not, you aren't the only one to volunteer him! XD**

**A heads up, Craig's part starts right where the last chapter left off! Well, without further ado, here's my latest contribution to . (Longest author's note section ever!) Do enjoy~**

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><p><strong>Chapter 10: A Private Chat With the Guy Upstairs <strong>

**(**Tweek's POV)

Everyone was praying that we were on the right road; the one that group b had taken, but I was starting to have my doubts. Now that I think about it, we probably should've gotten cell phones or better yet walkie-talkies, which can operate in the wilderness where there aren't any towers for miles, before we left that town. I hate hindsight.

Group a had fallen into a hopeless silence since the fog cleared and there was no group b in sight. Stan cursed under his breath and spun the car around in a sharp u-turn that made the tires screech against the asphalt. I let out a startled yelp as we sped back into the fog.

When we came upon the fork again, Stan made another sharp turn, tires shrieking in protest all the while. Now we were doing 100+ miles down the other road, and you could tell that everyone was thinking _damn it, go faster!_

(Craig's POV)

Bebe stopped for a split second before literally standing on the gas. My fact of the day is this: go buy a Lincoln navigator today; you'll definitely want one for the zombie apocalypse.

We were set on a path of carnage and destruction as we mowed down everything in our way. Bodies hit the grill and were dragged under the tires. The sounds of bones splitting, organs bursting, and blood splattering filled our ears and are forever etched into my brain.

The car would need a good hose down, that's for sure.

I think Clyde finally lost it, since he's become completely resigned to the things taking place around him. I looked on with a look of pure boredom, quite the contrary to how I felt at the moment.

Mrs. B pipes in again, and I groan. "Oh God—Oh Jesus! So much BLOOD!" I can't begin to fathom why this is cute on Tweek, yet so fucking obnoxious on this woman. Why did that fat ass bring her along anyway?

Yet, I realize now that my brain has always found a way to loop everything back to Tweek. Like, What would Tweek think about this? Or, Tweek would be so cute if he did that. Fucking figures I finally work up the nerve to make a move, and he's taken away from me. Right now I could beat the animation out of so many of those undead sons of bitches, even though I kind of owe them for giving me the push to tell Tweek how I feel before we're brutally slaughtered. That kind of thing tends to do that.

God? Are you there? If you exist, I have something to confess. I'd never planned for any of this to happen. I'm still not used to running blindly while death nips at my heels. If you really exist, and I'm skeptical that you do at this point, can you tell me one thing? Why am I afraid to die if this is what you'd planned for me? Why did you give me people to love if you're just going to take them away one by one? And God? I look out the window. Why the fuck did you create such abominations? Is this what you do when you're bored?

I notice that we're dragging a few corpses behind us, staining the road red. I see the parallels to how we'll live our lives until the day we die, constantly staining the roads red while we drag behind us the memory of people we've lost, and the constant knowledge that we'll be sure to lose more. They'll constantly weigh us down, but on the contrary, they're also what make us stronger. I don't intend to lose what I have left, and losing everything else has made me that much more determined. I'll kill every last one of them, or as many as I can, until the day I die. This I can promise you, God.

(Tweek's POV)

We came upon a clearing littered with limbs and lakes of blood coloring the grass crimson red. We must be close.

I felt my silence break, my resolve crack. I felt my tears come. I felt them fall. I felt my heart beat faster than it ever had before. We were so close and yet, I felt so useless, so hopeless. I'd never see Craig again. How could I stand not to cry? Craig was so good to me, with his soft blue eyes and that smug smile, and now he must be dying or dead. My brain took the wheel again and fed my impressionable mind these lies.

God, couldn't you let me have this final happiness? Or was I meant to have nothing all along?

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><p><strong>AN: I really like how this chapter came out! Let's hear it for Determined!Stan and Angry!Craig! Seriously, give 'em some love in your comments, and they'll respond cutely in the Author's notes portion of the next chapter. That reminds me, I feel like this is more than anything a crappy romance, so I'm upping the violence and gore factor for the next chapter; scenes of gore surely deserving of the rating of mature! More zombies shall be had by all! Until next time, dear readers!**


	11. If These Halls Were Cathedrals

A/N: Hello readers. It's been a while, hasn't it? I apologize for this inexcusable delay, but I'm here to give you a belated Halloween gift, chapter 11! ^-^ I'm amazed at how fast the reviews stack up; they really do help me feel motivated and inspired to keep writing! A reminder, my profile contains all my contact info, what I'm currently working on and anything else about me. One last thing I feel I should mention, if any of the previous chapters were undeserving of the mature rating, this one is. Well, without further ado, here's chapter 11!

Chapter 11: If These Halls Were Cathedrals

(Tweek's POV)

The scenery passed us by at a rapid clip, blurring the horizon beyond redemption. Splatters of blood ruined the scenic landscape, like a drunken painter angrily destroying a beautiful portrait because it didn't get accepted into the museum like he hoped. We passed clusters of road signs that were rendered undecipherable by smears of puree organs.

The tears had long since dried on my face, me not bothering to wipe them away after a long 20 minutes of effort. The potholes gently rustled the passengers of this hopeless Lincoln navigator, everyone's eyes downward cast.

It was coming up on early evening, and we were looking to stop for the night. It was a matter of where to stop, a matter of any of us being willing to check thoroughly enough to be able to sleep. Maybe that sliver, that glimmer of hope any of us held to be reunited wasn't even on our minds. Maybe no one gave a damn anymore.

We rolled past the limits of one of the largest cities we'd seen yet. I was exhausted when I even glanced out the window. We had reached some sense of boredom and were mindlessly getting lost. This would probably go on until we ran out of gas.

The coffee had long since worn off, and I remembered how it's always the second day before you really feel like shit. Stan was practically asleep at the wheel, and dread had short-circuited everyone's systems.

I think about Craig in my half-conscious state of mind. I imagine how he'd fight tooth and nail to find me and suddenly, that was enough. I wasn't done yet. I wasn't going to die for nothing, not like everyone else had.

So I say at the top of my lungs "Stop the car!" I startle Stan so much that he accidentally sets off the car horn. We slowly roll to a stop, a collective sense of confusion from everyone. I nudge Kenny to slide out so I can exit the car. Everyone keeps his or her eyes on me. I walk around to the front of the car and make Stan go sit in the back beside Kenny. Once everyone is seated, I speed off in no particular direction in a surge of inspiration.

Isn't it always when you're pushed to the brink that you do something about the cards you've been dealt? That and no Goddamn coffee.

~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~'~`

(Still in Tweek's POV)

I used to visit museums in Denver all the time when I was little. You know, no friends and all. My parents were just happy I didn't have that many emotional problems, so I had free reign of any and every museum I could think to visit. I read every brochure, every book, and even blogs I could find. It was a long held fascination of mine.

My point in telling this story is that I know the basic layout of your average museum and know the basic sections of each of the main three.

Art museums have a main gallery, a pottery section, a specialty section, which comes and goes, and often times a section dedicated to furniture made out of blown glass and granite. Science museums have a section for nearly every field of research, and sculpture upon sculpture modeling anything from different species to evolution. Finally, don't think I forgot them, there's your run of the mill history museums. These museums have timelines for evolution, eras of time, and sections for every culture.

Then you have the last component, the reason for all my madness; the weaponry section.

I'm taking a wild guess and heading to the downtown area. Absolutely no one knows where we're going yet, and that's ok for now.

Finally, we come across a huge building supported by giant pillars. Gold lettering spells out some donor's last name followed by "Museum of History"

I park the car at the front steps.

This whole thing was an act to get everyone inspired to kick some more ass. Because, if I die, I would prefer it be fighting beside Craig rather than in the backseat of a Lincoln navigator in the middle of a God forsaken neighborhood for nothing better than because I was tired of trying.

My confused companions follow me to the doors without question. I apprehensively wrap my fingers around the handle of my revolver from the depths of my cargo pants pockets. I take it out into full view with quiet determination and cautiously approach the door with my index finger laid along the trigger guard.

I point the barrel to door and nudge it open with my foot. The large panes of glass creak open on rusty hinges. I side step into the dark interior, eyes searching for the light switch. Token followed me in, then headed for the front desks, and soon the florescent lights flickered on eerily.

"Tweek? Where are you going? Why are we here?" Stan asked, looking up in awe. I followed his gaze to the high ceilings and saw the Greek gods rendered in marble with the cloudy landscapes of Olympus floating around them like a dream. I jerked my head away, mentally cursing the constant bother of ADD, and located the huge mounted map of the museum. Wordlessly, I take off down a hallway.

I take several turns, the others trailing behind me like lost puppies. I stop at the entrance of a large, brightly lit showroom, the group crowding around me to get a peek inside. The room is crammed wall-to-wall with swords, bows, maces, and clubs —all authentic—from every era in time. Everyone is quiet, realizing what I was trying to tell them through action alone.

Stan puts a hand on my shoulder as we begin breaking open display cases. He nods silently to me and goes to the crossbows. I let my gaze linger on this scene, pride swelling in my chest and taking the place of the dread I've had since this all broke out.

This was short-lived, however. Kenny's face contorted darkly, shouting "Tweek! Look out!"

I turned around.

And I swear I could have died of a heart attack.

My body pumps me good and full of adrenaline, quick to propel me backwards.

Agility of a fucking pikachu I tell you.

Before me was an erected mass of black and red rotten flesh. The sheer smell overtook me. Bile, a nauseating yellow-green, dribbled out of what I guessed as its mouth. Streams of unidentifiable bodily liquids spilled off its misshapen form, glistening in the hot showroom spotlight. Its eyes were pale blue, clouded and unseeing. It gnashed a row of rugged, disgusting teeth at me, more bile flying out of its gooey mouth. This was the second zombie I'd come into close quarters with, and it was much, much worse than the first, mostly because it had been dead a hell of a lot longer.

There had been a change in me over this course of a mere couple of days. The apocalypse had stolen the restraint, the cowardice, and the meek little kid that I was. This time, I wouldn't scream, I wouldn't hold back, and I wouldn't run. I walked forward, put the barrel to its abdomen, and squeezed the trigger. Not to be outdone by the memory of Craig, splitting zombies in half with the swing of his chainsaw, I took a couple steps closer and emptied out my gun in the crown of its head. Decaying, liquid flesh and brains sprayed the white linoleum tile.

An army of zombies moved like broken animatronics on an assembly line feeding to the room. I grimaced at the animated corpse-parade taking place before me. The group paused as a whole, the numbers of undead becoming overwhelming. I backpedaled as they neared me, swinging arms and lunging forward headfirst.

Token took the initiative and ripped a saber from its holder on the wall, and slashes the undead mother fucker to bloody ribbons that look not unlike paper mache dipped in glue dyed red. Everything was sent from _pause_ to _fast forward_ as we dove headlong into the fight.

Stan overturned a display table and dug a mace and chains out from underneath the pile of shattered glass. He swung it expertly into the side of a zombie's head where the spikes buried themselves into the softened flesh. It made a wet crackling noise as the skull splintered into tiny shards of bone, delving into and piercing the brain. The zombie went down in a mass of slippery gore. Stan couldn't salvage the mace, so he busted open another case for what he had originally sought—a crossbow.

Cartman is laughing his fat ass off about all of this, gleefully using his pair of hedge clippers he'd commandeered a couple towns ago to dive deep into the depths of the zombie's stomachs and making precise _snip snip snips_ to spill their guts onto the floor. He continues to laugh as he watches them clumsily trying to get at him, sliding and falling in puddles of their own guts. When he got bored of one, he easily severed their spines.

Wendy was using Stan's neglected shotgun as a makeshift club, and I couldn't help but think _if there was ever a time to use that thing it's now._ Kenny is covered in blood due to his preferred killing method of getting close and personal with his brand new bowie knife. It was almost hard to tell him apart from them as he slashed and hacked his way through the crowd. I took to using my golf club since I couldn't afford to stop and retrieve my Glock that I had managed to pick up at the pedophile fiasco.

Wendy beat her way over to me, offering the gun to me. "Tweek! Trade me!" I complied, since it was dangerous for her to be focused on trading with me instead of on keeping her back to a wall. It seemed like a fair trade at the time.

It's not even five minutes later that I find myself in a oh-so familiar situation.

So there's this zombie, swinging and clawing at me for all its worth, and there's me, fixing to blow it to the seventh ring of hell. The gun jammed. Oh shit. I try to employ Wendy's method, which by the way doesn't seem so stupid anymore, but the zombie swipes it clean out of my hands.

Again, I'm set on a collision course between my ass and the floor. Had I even lasted a week? This time I'm sure I'm going to die. This is it. This is my end. This time I won't be saved. I hit the ground and stared into the cold, undead eyes of my killer. Was I destined to die?

…

No, apparently not.

…

I hear a familiar buzzing noise from above me, it sounded like a symphony choir, and a spray of blood splattering my clothes. As the chainsaw made it its crooked path down the middle of the zombie's face, I stared unbelievingly at its wielder.

"Craig—it's you!"

And it was, in all his chullo hat-wearing glory. My knight in bloody armor had returned to me.

A/N: Happy belated Halloween/ National Heavy Metal Day (AKA 11/11/11)! Hope you enjoyed this carnage everyone, it took me a whole week to type it up and make revisions. Comments are welcome and appreciated! Now that this chapter is done, it's time for me to hop into a car for a magical three-hour-long trip down to the border. And I get motion sickness. But at least I won't feel guilty about updating anytime soon, so yay for that! - With Love, Satori Katana


	12. It Gets Better

**A/N: Hello again, and Happy Thanksgiving Day everyone! To give my thanks to you guys for reading my story, I've decided to update earlier than scheduled! Half a hundred reviews? Hot damn, that's just plain amazing! I hope that when the story ends, I'll have the full hundred. That's a dream of mine. Oh shit, getting off topic! Maybe that's why writing as Tweek comes so naturally to me! (A quick message to Scarlet Wolf: Please, stop asking questions. I promise that every question you have will be answered, but in due time!) Anyway, please do enjoy~**

**Chapter 12: It Gets Better**

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><p>(Tweek's POV)<p>

I was stunned, to say the least. On my ass in the middle of a history museum, surrounded by the bloodthirsty undead, and with yet another brush with death under my belt. Craig held out his free hand to haul me to my feet. Maybe this wasn't quite the right time or place, but he held me tightly in the middle of the grisly scene.

After ten anxious squirming minutes, and Craig seemed to be sufficiently hugged, he released me and turned to address the group. "Grab what you can and run" was the simple command, which was met with compliance from everyone. He took my hand and made a dash for the exit.

All around me, people were scrambling to take up armloads of weaponry and follow the rest of the group out the door. We ran like hell, not even bothering to stop and take down the zombies we passed. They were so slow; it was easy to dodge their advances.

I looked back, my eyes falling on Token, who was still toting around that rocket launcher on his shoulder. It made me stop to wonder just how much it would ever come in handy. With anything I could think of, the rocket launcher weighing us down always managed to outweigh its practicality.

More lakes of blood were found in the lobby, the metallic tinge in the air becoming almost undetectable now that my clothes stank like it, among other things, all the time.

It was the smell of death, however, that you could never get over.

In a single fleeting moment that felt like an eternity, Token's feet slid on the slicked up tile, and he went down hard; so hard, in fact, that when the rocket launcher came to be pinched between his shoulder and chin, the trigger was pulled and released. The projectile was sent sailing into a load-bearing pillar, and Zeus's legs went up in smoke.

Token swiftly got to his feet, but the damage had been done. The whole museum was crumbling around us. Huge chunks of the Greek gods rained down from above, Craig jerking me out of Hera's path to the floor. Clouds of dust enveloped us as we kept making a dash for the exit.

Once Craig and I made it out, we spun around to make sure everyone else did the same. I made a mental checklist: Kenny carried Butters out, Stan and Kyle followed, Cartman, Clyde, and Token, so who does that leave? Oh shit—the girls! But I couldn't hear anything over the huge building crashing down around us.

Kenny did a head count too and, coming up three short, ran back into the museum without hesitation, and before anyone could stop him. All we could do was wait.

Kenny emerged six minutes later carrying Bebe over his shoulder, guiding Wendy out with his free hand. He gently laid Bebe on the ground and we all saw the reason for her screaming; a badly broken leg. Kenny made an emergency splint for her out of random items he could find. I looked away from that nauseating scene and recounted; we still came up one short.

"Where's miss B—" I start.

Token grimaces. " Dead. I saw her go down myself." Guilt crossed his features as he glanced at Bebe again. "I…"

Craig places a reassuring hand on Token's shoulder, sighing. "It's alright dude," he says, looking him dead in the eyes. "It wasn't your fault" The conviction in his voice made argument worthless. It was cheap talk, though; Craig must've realized that before he even spoke those words. Token would still feel guilty, but he understood what Craig meant by what he said, and nodded.

We made our way with painful caution, both Bebe's injury and the eerie silence in mind. A film of dust settled over the streets with gusts of lonely sporadic wind.

As our death march crawled onward, we happened across a small clinic by the name of "The Institute of Pain" It was nestled between a rehab clinic and a greeting card store in a small shopping strip. After the museum incident, there was a certain…reluctance to enter any large buildings like hospitals for a while, so we settled for the change of pace. (God knows I avoided places of medical practice when they weren't crawling with the undead. You can only imagine how much this will suck for me)

We had Kenny lock pick the front door, and then we scoured the building for any unwanted residents. Only when we searched every room did we begin to barricade the points of entry. We blocked off all the hallways that lead away from the main lobby except for one room, which was to be used for Bebe's "operation''

Token was planning on becoming a doctor, so he was the most qualified of us to try to fix her leg without causing further harm. Cartman, Stan, and Kenny would act as his assistants while the rest of us waited in grim silence.

I took the time to notice some aspects of the room. Unlike most clinics, the Institute of Pain had a carpeted lobby, despite the inconveniences it would create when they had to clean it for whatever reason. This made it much more appealing, however, when I thought about having to sleep on the floor tonight.

Bebe began screaming bloody murder, interrupting my leisurely ponderings. My heart sank and my gut churned, not even looking up to see everyone else's faces. The sound of her screams along with three voices cursing loudly was found to be even worse than the sickening silence outside.

It was a long two hours.

Eventually, a welcome silence befell us. Stan emerged first, wiping his hands on a white towel until it was stained completely red. For some reason, that image from that night really stood out in my mind. Cartman followed behind Stan. Kenny and Token were the last to reveal themselves, working together to carry an unconscious Bebe to the only remaining sofa in the room.

We all sat in a circle on the floor, exchanging glances between the ten remainders of our group. Everyone was silent until Wendy did something we hadn't done in what felt like ages; she cries.

We watched her in morbid fascination. Her sobs eventually died down, and she felt all eyes on her. "I miss them" she whispers softly "my parents"

These simple five words hit us hard, because there wasn't a single person in the room that couldn't sympathize. It really sank in for the first time since this started; we were all just kids. And, for once, everyone's ages showed. There was a pause before Stan spoke.

"I never thought I'd miss Shelly this much…or my retard of a dad…" his voice came out strangled and broken.

Kyle placed a hand over Stan's, tears streaking his dirty face. "I miss Ike…and my crazy over-bearing mother…"

Craig moved closer to me without a word. Cartman's mouth formed a straight line, as if he was unsure of what to say. "My mom…she…" His mouth opened and closed, and quiet strangled noise came from the back of his throat.

Kenny pulled his hood down slowly, tears pouring from the sky blue depths of his eyes. He looked so fragile, so tired. "Karen…I…couldn't…I promised her I'd protect her no matter what…but I…" Heavy sobs wracked his body, and Butters pulled him into a hug, eyes squeezed tight.

It seemed we all broke down after that, and we cried for a long time. I was surprised to find that it felt really good.

Everyone could feel it, the shift. Since the beginning of this mess, it had been clear that it was everyone for themselves, but this had cemented a bond. It meant that, no matter what, we were in this together. We had no one else to count on but each other. This was our family; this was what we should protect now. It occurred to me that wherever these crazy kids went, that was home for me.

Bebe stirred, and the conversation moved on to all the little things we missed. "I miss my mom's cooking." Said Clyde, receiving a small smile from Token who wiped away a few stray tears from Clyde's face.

Craig sighed, "I miss Stripe the third and my acoustic guitar"

Stan shifted when Kyle leaned on him, their hands never letting go. "I miss Sunday afternoons at Stark's pond. Remember? Our parents got so mad because we got our church clothes dirty." He gave a small chuckle, something else none of us had done in quite a while.

I cleared my throat, clasping my hand over Craig's. "I miss the way my mom smells, and her hugs."

Bebe gave me a soft smile from her perch on the sofa "My mom used to sing to me on stormy nights, and my dad told me stories at ungodly hours of the night when I was too sick to sleep"

Craig paused thoughtfully. "It's kind of weird how therapeutic some things you do for others can be. I used to hold my sister and cover her ears when our parents fought at night. I was only twelve myself at the time, but it kind of let me focus on something other than how shitty I felt." We all fell silent.

Kenny gave a sudden chuckle, everyone staring quizzically at him. "Let's face it" he managed between gasps for breath "growing up sucks"

There was a pause while Kenny continued laughing, but Stan soon joined him. The completely uncalled for fit of hysteric laughter was infectious, and soon everyone had joined in. I guess we all realized that moments like this were rare, and we had to enjoy them while they lasted.

Soon after that, most of the group fell asleep. Only a few of us remained conscious, and now the atmosphere was back to being bleak and serious.

"So" Stan said, looking at Craig from his spot across the room. "How did you find us?"

Craig gave a small smirk "You underestimate me, Marsh. I had enough sense to jot down your cars license plate number. As soon as we made it to town, we flagged down every Lincoln navigator we came across until we found yours. I'm not saying luck had nothing to do with it, because I'd be a filthy liar if I did, but it also helped to have that piece of information on hand." Stan nods, his eyes filled with gratitude.

Kenny glanced at Bebe, sound asleep on the sofa, and we all know what he's thinking; _how the hell can we manage with Bebe's leg like that?_ No one knew the answer, but we'd be forced to find out soon, too soon.

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><p><strong>AN: Done! This took hours, so I really hope you like it! I'm sick right now with a cold, but I still managed to crank this out! Well, until next time, I'm off to take some painkillers. -SatoriKatana**


	13. I Always Knew

**A/N: Happy almost-Christmas guys! I'm ready to update! I know that Ms. B wasn't very well liked (even I didn't give a shit about her) which is why I made the decision to just go ahead and kill her off. Also, just a heads up, I will be cutting down on the group to make it easier to include all characters in the dialogue and keep track of them. Now, this does mean some characters will die, so bear with me here. Enjoy~**

**(Oh, and Warning: Very sad themes in this chapter)**

**Chapter 14: I Always Knew**

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><p>(Tweek's POV)<p>

The next morning was bitterly cold, too far from the mountains to be anything but. As we emerged from _The Institute of pain, _it all felt so surreal.

The group muttered amongst themselves quietly as the others continued to empty out. Wendy and Kenny helped Bebe out, the conversation ceasing immediately.

There was a dead pause.

Bebe cleared her throat.

"We all know how this has to go down. It's obvious, isn't it?"

Silence.

"I'll only slow the rest of you down."

Silence.

"I'm staying" she whispers.

"Bebe, you can't—" Kenny started.

"Then what was the point, huh!"

More silence.

"What's the goddamn point in all this if we all just die in the end? We already knew not everyone would make it, and I don't want it to be me, trust me, I'm scared, really, really scared, but at least I know what has to be done. I was dead the moment I broke my leg, and I accepted it." She inhales sharply, breath shaking. " Don't give me this false hope optimistic sugarcoated bull shit, because…I guess I always knew I wouldn't make it. Yeah, I'm tough, I talk the talk, take more hits than most people could, but I always knew I didn't have what it takes. Please, let me do this." She pleads.

And every word she said was true.

The tears fell from her eyes, and no one could stop that either.

Kenny brushed his fingers over her cheek, smudging the tears away.

Bebe gave a sad smile, which promptly fell from her features, probably never to grace her pretty face for the rest of the brief life she had left. Kenny looked at her with all the sorrow and love he felt for this girl who'd been his for so long. The tears never came into fruition.

Wendy wasn't about to stay quiet, so she swallowed and said, "I'm staying with her"

It came as no surprise, Wendy not giving up her best friend. Bebe was pretty much all she had anymore.

Stan held up his hand up "Woah woah woah. Who said we were leaving anyone behind?"

The girls turned to Stan with twin determination. "We're not going to let the two of you get slaughtered, not if we can help it!"

Cartman turned to Stan, looking him dead in the eyes. "I'll stay with them"

"This is no time for jokes, Cartman" Kyle growled.

"I'm serious, guys. I'll stay. I'll protect them." Kyle and Stan were at a loss for words.

We made the slow journey back to ground zero of the museum incident in silence. We stood in front of the Lincolns,regret scribbled on everyone's features. Kenny helped Bebe into the back of one of the Navigators, Cartman hauling himself into the drivers seat. Wendy hesitated.

She offered Stan a sad smile.

"I'm so sorry Stan. I'm sorry for all the bad I've done to you; all the wrongs. I want you and Kyle to be everything we weren't. I want you to live a happy life. I always knew we wouldn't last, Stan. I'm sorry for being a royal bitch…please forgive me?"

Stan pulled Wendy into a tight, affectionate hug, pulled her back at arm's length, and placed a chaste kiss on her forehead. "I love you, Wend. I'll always love you." She smiled back at him with warmth and kindness that she never showed to anyone else, and got into the passenger seat without another word.

We boarded the other Navigator, Kenny being the driver. Butter's sat in the passenger seat, Stan, Kyle and Clyde in the second row,Token, Craig and I in the third.

I leaned into Craig's shoulder as we brake with the city limits, rain pattering against the glass of the windows. I lift my eyes to look out the windows.

A pain nags at my chest, and I wonder how long it'll take before it builds up so much it crushes me. It occurs to me that maybe to make it out of this alive, I'll lose everything in the process. But I don't want to go on living without everyone I have left.

I fall asleep to the gentle stirrs of the road.

**A/N: Short chapter, but I will add another soon. By the way, congradulations! If you have gotten this far, you have officialy made it past the first act! A very short time jump will occur, but not to worry, it's just a little over a month. Also, let's have a hand for character redemptions! Will Wendy, Bebe, and Cartman ever cross paths with Tweek's group ever again? Who knows? Not me! Until next time-SatoriKatana**


	14. Everything Always Costs You Something

**A/N: Merry Almost-Christmas dear readers! uvu I recently got a perfect Craig hat from my orchestra secret Santa, and I promptly paraded around in Craig cosplay on Friday to get in the mood for my Christmas installment of Aaa! Zombies! So…here it is! As always, I'm open to suggestions, so don't be a stranger! Also, read my profile if you have any other questions. And one more thing, I'm trying out different POVs, so tell me what you think or who I should try out next. Enjoy~**

**This chapter is dedicated to my best friend, Sui as part of his Christmas present 3 (Much love!)**

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><p><strong>Chapter 14: Everything Always Costs You Something<strong>

**(A month later, btw)**

**(Kenny's POV)**

"Oh shit." Craig hisses as he turns the key in the ignition over and over. The navigator sputtered and coughed maybe once, but it was clear that the engine was dead. I grimaced.

"Dude, that thing's deader than Michael Jackson. Let's just cut our losses and move on"

It must've been around seven in the morning, and we were in the middle of an abandoned roadside Cracker Barrel parking lot. Apparently, the engine had frozen over night.

Craig let himself fall forward, his forehead smacking against the steering wheel. The staccato yelp of the car horn launched Tweek into orbit.

There was a long stretch of road, a good twenty miles or so between the nearest town and us. We had to walk the road if we didn't want to stay stranded here. We unloaded the trunk and took what was absolutely necessary. Butters shivered. Without a second thought, I peeled out of my parka and tugged it over his head.

"K-Kenny! I can't take your jacket! Won't you be cold?" It's a parka, but whatever. I smiled at him. "Don't sweat it kid" I had on way more then I usually did under my parka anyway, and it didn't bother me as long as Butters was warm. "Can't have you freezing to death, Buttercup" He was blushing up a storm over there.

Craig cleared his throat. "Let's get this calamity under way, shall we" I rolled my eyes.

"Fine, Tucker. Let us link arms and parade onward into death. While we're at it, why don't we sing a happy little tune about the serendipity and wonderment of our predicament?" My sickeningly sweet tone brought out that lovely, disgusted face Craig was just so damn good at. "May I have the honor of linking your arm to mine?" Craig's new expression led me to the sudden and, by the way, completely unrelated idea that this was stupid and I should stop.

Moving on.

We began our lovely, scenic stroll around seven thirty in the morning, and my first thought was _it's not that bad. _The road was slightly curved, and was hugged on either side by mountains and thick forest. By two in the fucking afternoon, however, I was singing a different tune. The unforgiving asphalt was murder on my feet, the bitter cold making my joints stiff. It wasn't just me either; the whole group was lagging, which was sad, considering we were eight reasonably in shape teenage boys.

Maybe it was the hunger.

Or the dread of knowing we'd probably freeze to death tonight.

Either way, the haze of mindlessly marching your numb-beyond-redemption feet was shattered with an ear-splitting shriek. We all spun around to see Tweek, pointing a finger at a dirty white sign that read _Government Property: Keep off._

We all exchanged glances. "This could be a small base, a place we could stay for the night. There might also be some supplies and maybe even some form of transportation," said Kyle, ever the brainiac. Suddenly I longed for the days where I could noogie him with carefree abandon.

I looked at Craig. "What do you think, dude?" he nodded after a moment of contemplation.

We veered off onto the small dirt road, not accessible by cars. Two more hours, fueled by the hope of shelter, the dropping temperature at our backs, we emerged from the tree cover and into a clearing.

The clearing was edged with a barbed wire fence, which was stitched together by a heavy-duty lock. I retrieved a pair of paper clips from my pocket and cracked my knuckles, setting to work on the pesky obtrusion.

With a dull thud of the lock on the ground and the ringing of the chain as it joined the lock, Token and me pushed open the gate.

There was a warehouse-like building smack dab in the middle of the clearing, a garage to the left of it. Craig and I went for the garage while everyone else went to the warehouse.

As we approached the door, it became apparent that lock picking wouldn't work so well this time. The keypad probably had a random number code. I looked at Craig, who obviously had the same plan. Simultaneously, we landed a hard roundhouse kick on the door, which caved in on impact. Pretty badass, if I do say so myself.

Inside was a gold mine; an army van, tools to modify it, fuel, maps, and some pretty menacing maintenance tools. We made our way back to the main warehouse, cautiously optimistic.

When we peered inside, we relaxed at the sight of our friends pawing through filing cabinets rather than being disemboweled by the ravenous undead. "What is this place, exactly?" I asked, making my way towards Stan.

"Why don't you see for yourself?" asked Kyle, turning away from an open drawer to hand me a thick manila folder. The tab read_ Project Invincible. _I stared blankly at it.

"What the…" I opened it.

"Fuck?" Craig suggested, looking sideways at a diagram that was handed to him by Token.

"Yeah. That." I muttered, squinting at the stately black print. Some of the print was inked out with black sharpie. "…The results of the serum have not been made known as of yet…the serum should be used on a test subject in a confined isolated testing chamber…symptoms may include: Uncontrollable hunger, blindness, severe delusion, slurred speech, and in serious cases can cause brain swelling, severe allergic reaction, and…death." I read out loud. "Charming."

"Indeed." Said Stan, grimacing. "…Apparently, '_Serum Z'_ also causes increased muscle strength, increased primal instincts, and stiff movement. Any of this sound familiar?" Frighteningly so.

I turn to Tweek, who is working at the large computer. "Oh may god!" He yelped. "It **was **the government! Look at these video files!" He brought up a video on the screen of what looked like a zombie, strapped to a vertical table. It was gagged, worried-looking men in lab coats rushing on and off screen, all carrying syringes and clipboards.

Tweek brought up another video of a zombie roaming around a small white room. A man with a gun walks in and tries to shoot it, but it mauls him to the ground before he can. I swallow hard. "Um, Tweek? You're a computer geek, right? Do you think you can find out where all this started from?"

"Alright, But it'll take some time!" With that, he went back to typing away at the keyboard. I pulled up a chair to the table in the middle of the room and continued sifting through the contents of the folder I had been handed.

Craig was seated beside me, spreading out glossy photographs and detailed diagrams on the table top, all lined up next to each other. This was it. We'd hit the mother load. Found out the real truth. This shit was real. No one knew this was just the tip of the iceberg. No one knew this would set us on the final course of our journey, not until Tweek screamed again.

"What is it?" Craig asked, everyone dropping what they were doing and gathering around the monitor.

"It's" Tweek stuttered "The fucking pentagon!"

This shit was really real.

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><p><strong>AN: Merrrry Christmaaas! Most dramatic cliffhanger of all fucking time! I'll probably update again over the break, but maybe not before Christmas. Anyway, please make me happy by giving the gift of many reviews!**


	15. Counting The Days

**A/N: So…I guess the whole Christmas spirit thing has overwhelmed me, so what the hell. I'm super bored and have way too much time on my hands, so here you go, dear readers. Enjoy—SatoriKatana uvu**

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><p><strong>Chapter 15: Counting The Days<strong>

**(Kenny's POV)**

We spent the rest of the night flipping through every scrap of paper we found. There was a large coffee maker off to the side, and Tweek nearly football tackled Craig to the ground when he brought a mug to the little spazz.

Eventually I left to go work on the car. It had to be up and running by morning.

I flicked on the lights and closed the door behind me. A small workspace at the entrance led off into the main garage, which housed the van. I sat at a small desk and began looking through the toolbox for the tools I'd need, when a calendar caught my eye.

I think I was really the only one that had counted and kept track of the days. Of course, the calendar was on the previous month. Let's see…it was December. Today would be…the 22nd. I wanted to cry.

Christmas was just three days away.

I dig around a drawer for a marker and x off all the previous days, then close the calendar and put the marker in my pocket. I popped my knuckles and neck, picked up the toolbox, and moved to the stool beside the van.

A couple hours later, I had gone through the basic checklist of maintenance and was ready to start modifying. Some scrap metal and a blowtorch sat in the corner. Excellent.

It was around two in the morning before I was done with the van. I was excited to unveil it tomorrow.

As I walked back to the warehouse with the calendar tucked under my arm and the enticing scent of coffee flooding my nose and mouth, the knowledge of Christmas coming up gnawed at my chest. I didn't know what to say about it, though.

Maybe I'd just spring it on everyone the day of.

When I walked in, everyone was wide-awake and still leafing through files. I sat down next to Clyde, glancing over at whatever he was looking at. "Holy shit" I grimaced. It was a partially dissected zombie.

"That's not even the worst of it" Clyde mutters darkly "they also have pictures of severed heads that have been layered to show muscle, bone, and brain. You can see in some shots that the eyes still move, and the jaws still open and close" I shivered.

Tweek was tearing the computer apart looking for files, Craig smiling at his determined expression. I got up and sat beside Butters, who stared blankly at a picture in his hands. I almost reluctantly glanced at it, but all it was was a picture of about twenty scientists, all proud grins on their faces. A couple near the middle held up a sign that read _Project Invincible. _Sick bastards.

I placed a hand on Butters shoulder. He shouldn't have to look at this stuff.

I didn't know why it mattered at this point, but Butters seemed to be the only one who hadn't become dark and cynical. He'd been through this with his sweet innocence intact. I didn't know how long he would stay this way, but I wanted to preserve his innocence for as long as I could.

He was all I had left to protect. Karen was gone, Bebe was gone, and my best friend was gone. This was all I had left to hang on to before I lost it. Butters was everything to me.

"You should go to sleep, Buttercup" I said gently. He looked up at me with those perfect blue eyes, all angels and feathers.

"Ok…" he looked down. "K-Kenny? If I go to sleep, will you stay next to me?" I smiled back down at him.

"Of course, kiddo"

This frantic scene would soon be blurred by a road trip from hell. I couldn't imagine ornaments, lights, presents, or home cooked meals in our future. Butters shifted against my shoulder. Hm, one phrase **did** come to mind.

_**Merry bloody Christmas**_.

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><p><strong>AN: Ok, until next week! This time I'm serious! Merry Christmas from the Aaa! Zombies! cast and myself, Satori Katana! uvu Much love, and a happy New Year! Be safe.**


	16. You Knew This Was Going to Happen

A/N: Oh my God, I am so sorry for the extremely long delay, but my shitty Internet connection made it impossible to log on to either of my accounts. I took this forced hiatus to plot out all the forthcoming chapters in advance. Now I'm able to type up new chapters and post them much quicker than before. I'll be receiving a new computer soon as well, which is great since I am legitimately afraid this one will burst into flames when I do anything on it. Anyway, I'm really sorry about the lateness, and I hope the quality of this new chapter will make up for it.

**Chapter 16: You Knew This Was Going to Happen**

**(Tweek's POV)**

We didn't really sleep that night, even though some of us might've tried to pretend they had. You couldn't blame any of us, considering what we'd set out to do the previous night.

We all sat around the conference table with grim expressions, the heavenly scent of coffee wearing heavy in the air. "We know what we have to do now. There's no putting it off" Stan said with a resigned sigh, his voice sounded much older than it used to "Tomorrow we're heading for DC"

That morning at around 6:30 we piled into Kenny's "pimped out" military van. He'd done an exceptional job on it, sheered metal plates bolted to the grill to act like a snowplow, reinforced windows, and a better engine. Stan took the driver's seat, Craig at, literally, shotgun. The rest of us piled in, acting as ammo feeds when necessary. The plan was to just drive until we got to DC.

(Several days later)

We were just in the limits of Washington. The sun was sinking low in the sky, its waning light casting us in the blues and grays of dusk. Before us were all the documents I'd managed to come across and retrieve from the pentagon, which all in all only produced a couple sketchy layouts and some descriptions of the security systems. All of this the fruits of an all-night search.

"How about here?" Token jammed a pointer finger at the eastern wall of one of our less crappy diagrams. Craig shook his head.

"It's too many opportunities to get lost or split up. Besides, the research lab we're looking for is all the way over here." He put his finger on almost the complete opposite side of the paper. "And we gotta think about the zombies."

"The western wall won't do either, Tucker" Kenny chimed in "The reinforcements and security precautions are there more than anywhere else"

Kyle held his chin, eyes narrowed in deep thought. Everyone watched him, silently begging him to come up with a solution. He usually did, after all.

"Honestly," he began "I say we take their front door. Reasonably close to the research lab, and with fairly minimum security, at least the kind we'd have to be cautious of, due to the fact that's where all the tourists are led in" Everyone went dead silent.

"Brilliant" Stan said, staring down at the map. "So tomorrow we go?"

Craig nodded his agreement. "We've exhausted all our ammo and food getting here, so I say we hit up a pawn shop, gun store, then pick out a nice place to crash at. After all, who knows what we'll face tomorrow." Everyone agreed.

We couldn't find a pawnshop after all, but instead we stumbled upon perhaps the largest weapon specialty store I'd ever seen. We ended our little excursion with shotguns, rifles, handguns, various knives, bows, seventeen crates of ammo, extra clips, and a samurai sword Craig fell for. Soon after we headed for the wealthy district of Washington and picked out a nice two story to spend the night in. Token seemed very happy in the familiar setting.

It took literally six minutes to sweep the entire place and block all the points of entry after what felt like years of experience doing so. After we finished, we headed upstairs and stumbled upon a true godsend—running water. Needless to say, we all took hour-long showers, and we didn't even care that the water ran cold because it was a **shower**. Craig took the bizarre pleasure in doing all our laundry, and I swear I hadn't seen him this at ease in literally years. Eventually we gathered in the upstairs loft and drifted into a painfully thin veil of sleep, broken up periodically by cycles in the night when we simply stared up at the ceiling and talked about empty things, the things you'd be prone to talk about at five a.m. with collectively two hours sleep for the past week. Empty talk to keep you sane at five a.m.

The next morning was slow, seeing as we need not rush anymore. The walk-in pantry was brimming with canned foods, as if its late owner was preparing for the coming apocalypse long before it had started. Who knows, maybe they were.

We unloaded the weaponry and loaded every gun and clip, sharpened every blade, and fitted every bow. We finished by ten in the morning.

The pentagon was much larger than expected, but we didn't view it as anything but what it was or could be, the end, our grave, or our last stand.

The security pad was online and armed, much to our vague suspicion and gut-churning foreboding. I still was able to get passed it in a handful of minutes, receiving a couple cheers. We unrolled the blueprints once in the front lobby, Kenny and Kyle looking down on it while we scanned the coast for any sign of unwanted company. "This way" Kyle said, taking off to the left hall, Kenny sighing quietly as if finding the hallway to take on the map was some sick game of _Where is Waldo_.

We continued in this way, the taking a hall then stopping, the _Where is Waldo_, the hint of competition between Kenny and Kyle. Soon we found ourselves in a corridor of glass doors that led to testing chambers, a small series of labs at the end. Halfway down, all hell broke loose.

It started with the scratching of nails against glass, an eruption of ravenous grunts and shrieks, and a curious automated beeping and the sound of doors opening. Next was us, all of us, frantically racing to the end of the hall, and a door mid-hallway shutting behind Craig and I, leaving the others to face the zombies.

"Damn it" Craig hissed, frantically searching for some kind of way to open the door, but there wasn't one to be found. All we could do was take Stan's word that they'd fend off the swarm and go on to the lab, hopefully to find a way to open the door. We jogged to the end of the hall, only to find the door locked. Craig pounded on the surface in desperation. Suddenly, the door gave way, and Craig stumbled to the room.

I gaped when I stepped in beside him.

It had to be the most repulsive, most massive, most mutated beyond redemption **thing **I'd ever seen, and that was counting the all sci fi movies I'd seen over the years. Built like a tank, rippling muscles, no facial features to speak of, festering layers of skin all melting off the massive frame, gnarled teeth dripping in bile, and the most devastatingly **human **eyes.

It ran like a cheetah.

Craig went down beneath its huge carcass.

His blood sprayed **everywhere.**

And I was frozen in place.

That's when I came back to earth, a split second too late. I couldn't shove Craig out of the way. I couldn't save him. There was one thing I could still do, a voice said in the back of my head, and I did it. I raised my trembling hand to its temple and emptied my entire magazine into its skull. Flooded with a newfound rage, I reloaded and emptied a second into its chest, even though it had long fallen away from Craig, even when it was just a pile of putrid flesh on the floor, even when I should've started to worry about Craig. I emptied four magazines into its body.

As fast as it'd come my adrenaline left me, taking my legs with it. I collapsed to my knees, my head spinning. It'd been five minutes. Craig had been taken from me in five minutes.

Numbness befell me, I couldn't even look at his body, and my peripheral vision saw all the red I needed as confirmation.

And then I heard it, that awful thudding. Not of my heart, or of another zombie. This noise was so much worse, and I'd heard it too many times before. It was the sound of someone's shoes on the floor. I slowly chanced a look in the direction of the noise, and soon wished I hadn't.

"Well well well, who knew you had it in you to kill Tweek" A smirk.

Eric Cartman.


	17. Once in a While

A/N: Hello everyone. Our story has reached its climax, and soon the journey will end. All will be sorted out, explained thoroughly, and known by this chapter's end. There will be a chapter after this that will summarize the aftermath, and hopefully reach an emotionally satisfying end. I hope you enjoy.

And thanks for 75 reviews guys. :3

Just to recap: They stumbled across a military base, found out about _project invincible_, went to D.C., made it to the pentagon, Craig and Tweek got cut off from the group, Craig got attacked by a giant zombie, and Cartman showed up.

**Chapter 17- Once in a While**

**(Tweek's POV)**

Cartman let loose a fit of cruel laughter, eyes falling on Craig's now writhing body. I winced at the mixture of glee and contempt on his face. Even though it wasn't, not by any stretch, a surprising outcome, still I whispered,

"Why?"

His grin widened. "Don't take it personally, ass hole. This was simply a happy accident." My blood ran cold, Craig's pathetic whimpers breaking my heart all the while.

"You were always a pain in my ass, the two of you, though I never pegged you for the leader types. A freak and an anti social douche bag." He spat, his smile falling from his features. Craig coughed and sputtered, attempting to speak. It was no easy feat with a mouth filled with blood. "But I suppose this is an even better arrangement. Again, happy accident."

Pride glowed in Cartman's eyes. "I suppose I'm expecting too much of you, so I'll explain my brilliant plan, seeing as you're about to die anyway" He pauses to look down at the berretta in his hands. He fiddles with the safety.

"It was easy, phase one. I was just bored out of my head with the hum drum hick town I'd grown to hate so much." He gives a short, breathy laugh, more in his own delusional amusement than anything else. "So I thought to myself, why not see what our fine military is up to? "

I narrow my eyes as best I can, but I probably just look like I'm about to cry. That is true enough. Cartman ignores me and continues what is sure to be a long-winded explanation.

"It took me a month of sweet talking my mom out of her paychecks and a shitty part-time job before I had enough money to come here." He smirks to himself.

"Phase two was just a little more challenging, but I managed to pull it off. I snuck into a small research lab and managed to copy a couple folders on _project invincible _since it was a small, low-fund research team that wouldn't be missed. After that came the fun part. I looked through all the files at home and found out how to contact the researchers."

He chuckles to himself. "I posed as a scientist that'd been assigned to work on the project with them remotely from Colorado. Now, since these guys were a bunch of young or unremarkable scientists, excited just to have a test tube set of their very own, they welcomed any help I could give. Besides, how could anyone else know so much about the project? You listening, Craig?" He received a strangled groan in return.

"Project invincible was primarily a soldier enhancement research team, obviously not a very promising one at that. Surprisingly, they had already developed a prototype on their own, and under my instructions adapted it into a tremendously aggressive virus." Cartman held a syringe filled with a clear green liquid up to the light. A white label across the cylinder simply read 'x'. "No, aggressive would be soft pedaling it. This virus is hell in a vial." I swallowed hard.

"Soon they were eager to test this 'success' " He placed the syringe on the counter to his left. "A willing subject was chosen," an arm gestures to the mass of flesh that used to be the tanker. "She was to be called 702xa. I took the liberty of writing up a contract stating that no matter what, she was to be kept alive for observation. No one ever reads the fine print" He offers a shrug.

"Over a two-day period, 702xa's entire structure began to change. Since serum x is a steroid-infused, potent, lab-created version of what I spread, it caused a greater change. But I'll get back to that in a minute. At any rate, when the higher ups noticed how out of hand this was getting, how _Aaa! Zombies!_ this was getting, they shut it down, but under my final orders did two things. First, they sent me a sample of serum x, and secondly, they kept 702xa alive for further tests. After all, what good is a virus without an antidote?" He grinned at the gasp that pushed past my lips.

"We succeeded in creating the serum dz, but, due to intricate production, few supplies were in fact made." He opened a pocket in his jacket to produce a new syringe, this one filled with vibrant amber colored liquid.

"Now, back to the virus itself." He slips the syringe back into his jacket. "The virus, as I mentioned before, is vicious and has bonded to the components of a powerful steroid. This results in exponentially greater muscle mass. Because the lab could create a concentrated serum, the results of someone injected in a lab are dramatically different from that resultant of the passing between individuals. However, I'm not certain what Craig will mutate into. My money's on that thing from _Resident Evil_" He laughs at my pathetic attempt to glower.

"The serum dz is even more remarkable than its virus counterpart. In order to reverse the effects of the virus, it has to repair and regenerate all damaged parts of the body; as a result it possesses incredible healing properties. These qualities make it versatile, and it has potential to be applied to cancer, muscle degeneration, and just about any other disease. The possibilities are endless. That's where the next phase comes in." I drown out his self-indulgent speech for a moment to look over Craig for the first time. Maybe thinking him dead and gone was a bit premature. His wound was a simple bite on the neck; the problem was he has bleeding out and mutating excruciatingly fast. Nothing a little dz can't fix.

"…But unfortunately, dz does have a limit. It can't repair the severely mutated," he glances at 702xa. "Nor can it help those exposed longer than a two-day period. It also can't bring the dead back to life" Wait, weren't they already dead? He seemed to read my mind.

"Don't get me wrong Tweek, these zombies are severely damaged, in brain, neurologically, and structurally, but not completely dead, not unless the virus can take over the host in that window of time when the brain is still functioning. Most of these zombies you killed still had a weak pulse, how does that make you feel?" A little like I want to hurl, thanks for asking. "Since the steroid adds more muscle, the metabolism compensates by working over time, so you basically eat anything that moves, creating the illusion of a zombie" My mouth went dry.

"B-but what about the bombs? And how did you s-s-spread the v-v-v-v-virus?" My voice timidly streams from my unbearably tight throat.

"Ah, yes. That. When I got my hands on that sample, I spread it through people I met. Travelers. Drifters. People making their way across America, that's for sure. I told the higher ups that there had been a mix up when they sent the sample, and that it had been exposed to a small town in Colorado. This minor detour was to get you guys neatly out of the way while providing me with a diversion to continue the spread. Observably, even the higher ups were low ranking, and wouldn't want to lose their jobs over this total fuck up, so they sent in bombs. What I didn't count on was the fact that that these bombs were only small grade and didn't do all that much damage, but by then it didn't matter. The virus was all over America. But before I could make it to the bus and get here, you showed up." He narrows his eyes venomously. "Not a single one of you dead. I was forced to go along with you, help feed into the false hope, and bide my time until I could break away. It was annoying, yes, but also pretty damn fun"

I speak up again "What about Wendy?" I find myself asking "Didn't you love her?" The color drained from Cartman's face.

"I did." He said with utter absoluteness, face bare of any good humor. "But she didn't feel the same. She never would. I did my best to protect her, don't ever doubt that, but… She kept staying farther and farther behind to protect Bebe. They tripped" His voice took on an unexpected strain, sorrow filling his empty auburn eyes, taking place of the hatred that had almost seemed permanent. "I put 'em down. Their request." His voice was a whisper.

"Can't you understand that I feel the same about Craig? Can't you let me save him?" I plead.

He falters a moment, hand suspended over his pocket. Then he stops.

"No. If Wendy had to die for nothing, then we can all die for nothing too. I'm taking these antidotes to Europe where I can sell them to the highest bidder. This is how the story ends."

Rage poured into me, and slowly I stood. "No. If we all die for nothing, then there was no point in it. One of us is going to live, and I'll be damned if it's you." I snarl. I lift the katana from the floor and raise it to perch on my shoulder.

Cartman looked taken aback, but just as quick regained his arrogance. "Oh? You think you can take **me **on? Fine, might as well play with you a little before I finish you off" He shrugs off his jacket and takes an offensive stance, gun forgotten.

I ran at him recklessly, and he easily dodged to the side, tipping the toe of his boot out to catch me off balance. The sword and I clattered to the floor.

That's when the first kick came.

All the air was forced from my lungs as the sharp toe of his Doc Martins burry into my diaphragm. I cough violently, tears springing to the rims of my lower eyelids. Then came another kick. Then another. And laughter. Soon I was coughing up blood.

He removed his attack to retrieve what I assumed was the gun. Years of boxing had conditioned me to take hits pretty well, but I was barely conscious and wheezing all the same. Shakily, I stood, blood spilling down my chin. With Cartman under the impression I was cataleptic, and therefore taking his sweet time, I retrieved the sword. When he finally turned around, eyes flashing, and I saw all Eric T. Cartman was: evil, cruel, hateful, brutal, vindictive, and sin itself, everything became fast forward. I swung the sword.

His entire head was sliced through to the spine, blood from his carotid artery spraying me in a vibrant red. Suddenly, the zombies, or whatever they were, seemed the less messy of the two to kill. His body went crashing to the ground, his loaded berretta scuttling across the room. Something on the counter caught my eye-the serum.

Broken ribs and adrenaline coursing through me, I forced my stubborn legs to the counter, where I opened the jacked and removed the antidote. Without taking the time to appreciate the color, I dove at Craig and plunged the needle straight into his heart.

I found the door controls a moment later, and once I had the barriers unlocked, hurled.

I crawled back to Craig where I collapsed beside him on my back. The door opened, and if it wasn't the others, I wasn't about to get up again. But it was, and they all carried a sad, somber air to them.

I knew why when they brought the body in.

Blond hair askew and bite marks stitching along both arms, Kenny lay, barely alive.

"He shielded us from the worst of the attack" Kyle explained, his voice void of emotion, hollow, dead.

Wordlessly, save for a pronounced wince, I stood, moving towards the back counter, retrieving a handful of antidotes from the small crate Cartman had laid out in advance. Everyone lifted their eyes to watch me, taking notice of the corpse at my feet.

"Is that…?" Kyle asked, voice quavering in slight grief. I nod, kneeling to inject Kenny's forearm.

"What exactly happened here, Tweek?" Stan asks, voicing the obvious.

I sat back wearily on my knees and wiped away a smear of blood with the back of my hand. "ok, so here's what happened…"

After I explained everything, we all took injections of the antidote as a precaution. An hour and a half had passed, due to me skipping over things, having to go back to explain them, being vague, and getting distracted.

Kenny began to stir, and Butters's eyes lit up, relieved tears freely flowing from his eyes. He took Kenny's hand in his own.

His eyes fluttered open "Am…. am I dead?" He mutters, staring into Butters's blue eyes as if he were an angel.

"No, Ken. Not this time" Butters whispers, letting Kenny wipe his tears away. What he meant was lost to everyone but them, and they were fine with that.

A/N: There you go! Merry Christmas Easter birthday to everyone. Reviews are invaluable, and I'd love to end up with 100, so please do so! Until the last chapter you guys~ SatoriKatana


	18. We Start Again

A/N: This is likely the last chapter of our story. It's been one hell of a journey, one filled with loss, pain, quirky banter, awkward romance, gore, red bull, headaches and a whole bunch of sad songs. Please keep a look out for other stories by me, either for this fandom or any others I'm into. I also have a side account with a friend called sweetserendipity55. I hope you've enjoyed, and will tell your friends about this.

Ps, big thanks to all of my friends and reviewers for supporting me through my first internet-posted story, and for all the ideas and help you've given. You keep me sane to some degree.

**Let's do this thing. BT**

**Chapter 18: We Start Again**

**(Tweek's POV)**

We march stiffly down the damp, empty corridors of the pentagon, eventually flanked to the right by the late afternoon light that came pouring in from the windows as we neared the exit. Craig was still too stiff to move on his own, so Token and I support him as we proceed. It's a slow going, but we all have somewhat renewed energy from the simple flare of hope and relief that we were going to make it, that the nightmare was finally playing itself out. That was enough.

Cartman had mentioned flying to Europe, so we looked for his plane as we made it outside, turns out it was seated on a small abandoned runway just a couple blocks away.

"This is all well and good," Kenny began, studying the nose of the small aircraft "but, ah, how are we gonna get this baby off the ground?"

Once again, we all turn to Kyle, our genius on hand.

"I know how to fly a plane" He started sheepishly, then quickly backpedaled before we could sigh in relief "well—in theory—I mean, I've read books—"

And then we were back to square one.

Finally, Clyde took the initiative. "I was planning to go into the air force, my uncle's flown with me dozens of times, and I can do the simulator blindfolded. Think I'm qualified enough?" there was a slight bite in his tone, probably because we should've known this and should've turned to him before Kyle.

"Finally you have a use to us," Craig groans out, and he still manages to sound sarcastic though his voice is groggy. Clyde purses his lips in response.

The sun was fast falling by the time Clyde had finished all the tests. It was a rather nice plane, small but comfortable, which meant my plane anxiety and Craig's claustrophobia wouldn't be as bothered with this arrangement. We loaded our minute remaining rations of food and water, weapons, ammo, blankets and the rest of the antidotes into the back, and then took up our seats.

Kyle would be Clyde's copilot because he was the next least incompetent of us in the ways of maneuvering a flying hunk of metal and human beings.

Finally, as the cityscape rolled by, I find myself sigh. The pentagon becomes just a tiny shape below us, and I toss the bad memories behind me, while secretly relishing in the idea of having a therapist soon.

Craig is finally conscious enough to ask for a little water and some canned ravioli, the remainder of which

I eat. He leans on me in our seats, and I can feel the light warmth of his breath and his eyelids as he blinks against my shoulder. Neither of us find the need to speak, because we know everything the other could possibly say. Besides, it's the most comfortable silence we've had in months. Both of us are dwelling on the small silent details of the other rather than finding comfort in empty words and of constantly reassuring one another. Those things tended to weigh on us more than comfort us anyway. And who the hell says we had to talk to enjoy company anyway?

Around us, everyone's in varying states of tranquil silence, leaving the compartment in the steady hum of the engine. For once, I know how it feels to be on those fancy meds my parents spared me from, and it felt pretty nice. Quiet, calm, and I daresay comfortable.

I muse when I have time to indulge in myself.

The plane ride was smooth, and it led me to thinking about what Clyde said about wanting to be a pilot. Now I could see it easily. Kyle, who's always been so logical and authoritive, would have made a great college professor. Stan, our star quarterback, a wonderful football player, Kenny a brilliant singer, Token a surgeon. That lead me to thinking, wow, how different would our lives be if the apocalypse hadn't come?

Would we be happier?

Well, we'd certainly be less fucked up, we'd definitely have more family, and we'd probably have less severe worries in our lives to boot.

But would we be truly happier?

I mean, of course we've lost too much to think about, and we've been put through hell at a psycho bastard's expense, but when you think about all the good that's happened during this, would the outcomes of an alternate timeline really produce a better outcome?

I'm an optimist. Fight me.

We flew for hours, and I eventually lost track of how long it ended up taking. All I really know is that when we got to Canada, it was morning.

I'm not sure if it was the knowledge that we were out of the united states of zombieland, but I swear it was the most beautiful sunrise I'd ever seen.

I hadn't slept in a grand total of five days straight and counting, Craig having long-since given up with telling me to go to sleep, God damn it.

We arrived at an airport in Ottawa shortly after the sun reached its afternoon perch in the sky. We had obviously attracted some attention, and after Stan and Kyle sweet-talked the officials that came to meet us, we were able to meet with the prime minister.

Canada had taken notice of the situation in America, and wanted any intel we could supply them with about it. Of course it was an obvious issue to their security, so they were eager to help us out. After an international meeting between America's allies was organized, things became fast and furious. Over the course of several weeks alone, the antidote was mass produced across our European allies, and supplied to the troops that were sent in a short while after. Speed was very important in the scheme of things.

Zombies beyond help were executed and disposed of, buildings were repaired, the infrastructure was rebuilt, and survivors were immunized. This cost billions.

Out of a country of millions rose a new nation of thousands.

No one was the same, nor were they expected to be.

I still have those pulse pounding nightmares, those random episodes of fear and crippling anxiety, and I still desperately cling to Craig for no reason when we're in public. I'm still not ready to go back to Colorado to say goodbye to my old life and start over, even though I know I can't until I do. Right now I don't want to start over, I just want to let out the breath I've been holding and try to sort out a plan.

The last week we stayed in Ottawa, we all gathered on the roof of our hotel in a style the cast of the hangover would've admired. Of course, we didn't have roofies and vodka, but we did have a large city to lay waste to when we left this spot. We sat on the cement lip, our legs dangling over the ledge. None of us said a word, because we all knew what this meant. We'd made it, and though our bond wouldn't be severed, we would lead separate lives, and probably scatter across the country. This was really the last time we'd all be together.

The sky was a darkening shade of smoky shade of navy blue, only a robin's egg blue at the fringe of the setting sun's halo. All our eyes trained solely on that half circle of light, and it felt like the first time I was fine.

I let myself settle against Craig, eyes at half-mast. This was our second comfortable silence, and really the first moment we had to breathe in after having traveled to England for the debriefing last week.

Maybe now I could finally sleep.

A/N: There you go! Well, if you have any questions left, any at all, please feel free to PM me and I'd be happy to answer. If not, then I hope you enjoyed the story and that the ending was to your liking. Until a new story,

**SatoriKatana uvu**


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